


So Ready

by kardamon



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Dead Man's Chest, Deal with a Devil, Drama, F/M, Romance, Weddings, sparrabeth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-08 17:42:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 41,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12259041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kardamon/pseuds/kardamon
Summary: "I'm so ready to be married," Elizabeth sighed.You know where this is going.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So... how about this story?
> 
> Mid-DMC. Imperfect timeline.  
> Sparrabeth.  
> Disclaimer: Jack's not mine. That's really tragic. The rest of them is not mine either, but that's easier to bear.

It was a terrible moment to let himself get distracted. Terrible being the opposite of opportune. There was an undead and entirely unpleasant squidy captain after him, chasing him on his creepy underwater ship with a creepy squidy crew and a squidy pet monster in tow. And since Jack really, really did not like squids,  _those_  were the things he should be occupying his mind with,  _not_  how to get under some wench's skirt. And while he certainly had a great appreciation for the fairer sex' charms, he had always been good with keeping his priorities straight and not letting his pastimes, however delightful they may be, get in a way of his survival. Therefore, he should not be currently wasting his brainpower on anything other than getting himself out of his current predicament – he reminded himself not for the first time of the day, before giving the Distraction yet another sidelong glance.

Oh, but she was a sight for sore eyes; the one pretty creature on deck of his ship, resting so comfortably among the lot of crude, filthy pirates, and looking quite at home: Elizabeth-It's-Miss-Swann-to-You-Thank-Gods-Not-Mrs-Turner.

 _She feels safe here_ , he thought with an odd prickle of pride.

The last time she had been on the  _Black Pearl_ , the ship had been cursed and it had not exactly been a pleasant visit. And yet, there she was, sitting – no,  _lounging_ on the stairs, stretched in a way no corset would have allowed her to, had she been wearing one. Which she was not.

Bugger. He was not supposed to think of  _that._

Corsets and skirts were exactly what he was supposed to  _avoid_ thinking of...

 _But she's not wearing a skirt, either!_  - his mind happily supplied him with a feeble excuse.

...or the lack of them.

 _Ye're not helping yerself, mate_ , he groaned inwardly.

If only the things he  _needed_ were perfectly aligned with the things he  _wanted_. That, however, was not always the case. Which was probably why his compass did not work the way it should.

It was not his fault, though, that it was hard for him to concentrate. They just looked so good together: the lass and the ship. Small hands wrapped around the dark railing. Black sails and golden hair enlivened by the breeze. The riveting correspondence of the graceful, curvaceous lines of the hard wood and the soft flesh...

_He needed rum._

He blindly reached for the bottle. The feel of glass under his fingers calmed him somewhat, and he thought that he would just take a sip to go and change the current location of both himself and the rum by transporting them both to the helm. The problem was, he forgot that Elizabeth was blocking his way. Their way. Also, he made a mistake of glancing at her again.

She was pouting.

No-one could blame him for getting tempted by that, could they? No matter. He did not care what "they" thought.

He grabbed another bottle.

"My tremendous intuitive sense of the female creature informs me that you are troubled," he said swiftly placing himself onto the steps next to her.

He quite liked the proximity. He also noticed that she did not pull away, even when he leaned forward, invading her personal space.

 _Ah_. She did not mind. He suspected that she liked him, though most of the time she acted as if he was the most annoying person she had ever met. He was almost sure he amused her. Lesser, more insecure men tended to hate it when they found that the woman they fancied thought anything about them to be remotely funny, but Jack Sparrow was a sly enough bird to know that making a lady laugh just about doubled his chances for getting into said lady's bed.

Elizabeth shot him a brief glance, but she was still wearing a displeased expression on her face.

She looked adorable when she was pouting. Women were just as touchy as men, though, so it was best not to risk telling her that.

"I just thought I'd be married by now," she said, causing Jack to frown in horror.

 _That_ was why she was upset and what she was thinking about while sailing in his company? That she was not yet irreparably, hopelessly, foolishly and utterly unnecessary tied to the whelp? Where was her sense of adventure? Her love for freedom? She should be thankful for the delay!

He could not be that wrong about her, could he?

"I'm so ready to be married," she sighed sounding tragically disappointed.

_Unless…_

He raised his eyebrow quickly considering the young, curious and rather temperamental lass next to him and reminded himself that in the polite society, very different standards were applied to men and women.

... _maybe it was not the young William per se she was longing for?_

Could that bloody fool really keep the vibrant, sensual, not to mention beautiful creature as Elizabeth waiting and completely unattended for so long?

_Stupid, stupid whelp._

He probably barely dared to kiss her and never touched her other than offering her an arm on a  _stroll._ What a waste! A woman like her, hungry for life, needed to be taken care of.  _Cherished_ , not worshipped from afar, like some kind of religious statue. She was not a doll, but a living, breathing,  _lovely_  woman. And women – Jack knew that for a fact, though most men he knew had their doubts on the matter – had needs. Which might have been why it was so common for said men's wives to risk seeking Jack's attention instead of their husbands'.

There was respect and there was plain idiocy.

Right there and then Jack decided that if Will was so daft, it was his own fault and that he did not deserve to be minded. There were  _plenty_ of ways to keep his fiancée happy, even if they wanted to wait, the  _boy_ clearly had no clue about.

 _Jack_  would certainly know what to do with Elizabeth.

"You know..." he said, before clearing his throat and leaning a bit closer, until his body was brushing against her arm. "...Lizzie."

She made a face at his audacity. But she did not exactly move away _._ He generously offered her one of the bottles. In his experience, rum cheered people up and made them more open to his arguments.

"I am a captain of a ship," he started. "And being captain of a ship, I could, in fact, perform a marriage."

He had her attention, but she was looking at him rather sceptically, as if she thought he was not making any sense.

"Right here," he added to make her understand what he had in mind. "right on this deck, right… now."

She stared at him incredulously before snorting.

"No, thank you," she said getting up.

He followed her. After all, if there was a chance that he was not going to be around for much longer, he could as well have fun while there was still a quiet moment, and he very much liked this game they were always playing.

"Why not? We are very much alike, you and I. I and you. Us."

"You're not being serious," she tossed over her shoulder dismissively.

He used both his hands to gesticulate for emphasis – a bottle still dangling from one of them.

"But I am. Serious as a grave, love."

She twirled around and cut him off: "You?" she almost snickered. "Married?"

He made a wounded face, but then chuckled inwardly when she suddenly frowned, as if struck by a thought and a look of horror crossed her face. It eerily mirrored his own from a minute ago.

"You're  _not_  married, are you?" she asked taking him by surprise.

Jack blinked. His face went completely black for a second while he was mulling over his answer and he could tell it made her a bit nervous.

"No," he said finally, smiling brightly. "I don't think so."

She shot him a suspicious look.

"You're not sure?"

"There's been a few times when I've been  _very_  drunk," he confessed, "but I do not recall getting married, and seeing as no-one has come to remind me otherwise, I assume my non-recollection must be correct."

She stared at him.

"I'm not drunk now," he clarified quickly when her gaze shifted toward the bottle of rum.

She shook her head.

"I'm not stupid, Jack," she said.

"Never crossed me mind, darlin'."

"You're just fooling around. Like I don't know what you really have in mind."

Jack's eyes twinkled. He took a small step toward her, almost as if her was asking her for a dance.

"What  _do I_ have in mind?"

She pursed her lips.

"You just want to get me in your cabin," she said flatly.

He raised his finger.

"Ah, but I suggested no such thing. Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie… I only proposed to marry you – a perfectly respectable notion. If  _you_ thought of something else – like dragging me into me cabin and having yer way with me – that's all on you. However," he made a mournful face, "if you'd rather just take advantage of me person  _without_  making an honest man of me…" he trailed off.

Elizabeth's cheeks pinked slightly, but she cracked a smile. He considered it a small victory.  
"To make an honest man out of you? I'm not sure that's even possible."

"...then I suppose I would not protest and take whatever I can."

"Now, that sounds more like you."

He returned her smile with his own, inducing it with as much charm as he could. She enjoyed a good banter too much to pass on the opportunity to tease him, which was very fortunate for him, since there was always a chance she would forget herself in the heat of the moment.

"You'll see," he said smugly. "You will come over to my side."

"As if you would ever give up your freedom by tying yourself to one woman."

"Oh, but I'd be getting another kind of freedom in return."

"And what kind of freedom would you gain?"

That was all the invitation he needed. He inched closer, invading her personal space. She stood her ground, which left her cornered. She had to lift her chin in order to be able to look him in the eye.

"The freedom of doing certain things...," he said, leaning forward and putting his hands on the rail behind Elizabeth, trapping her between his arms, "whenever I want to."

 _Please, ask what things,_ he chanted in his head.  _Please, ask what things._

That would be a perfect excuse for him to demonstrate what he had in mind.

She bit her lip, as if she had to purposely force herself not to answer, but she kept mum, simply raising her eyebrows instead. The immediate result her actions had, however, was for Jack's gaze to drop to her mouth.

He could almost feel the heat radiating off her body. Spellbound, he lifted his hand and brushed the back of his fingers against her blushing cheek. Her breath caught. By God, but she was  _mesmerising_.

And she was frowning.

Why was she frowning?

"You're bluffing," she accused.

Jack dropped his hand.

"What?" he asked confused.

"I don't believe a word of this. You wouldn't do this."

"Do what, exactly, dearie?"

"You wouldn't marry me. Nor anyone else."

"Oh?"

"What would you do, if I said yes? You'd wait until I turned around and then run for hills."

Jack narrowed his eyes at her.

"Try me," he said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He tilted his head. "Unless  _you're_ afraid?"

She pursed her lips. Was she torturing him on purpose? And then… she laughed.

"Very well, then," she said with a note of challenge in her voice. "Let's get married."

There was mirth in her eyes. She thought it was a joke.

She was thoroughly underestimating the allure of the wedding night.

A slow smile spread on Jack's face.

"Excellent!" he exclaimed cheerfully.

"I want it to be a proper wedding, though," Elizabeth added in a rush.

Jack struggled to grasp her meaning. A proper wedding? He could certainly imagine an  _im_ proper wedding if he put his mind to it, but whatever made for a proper wedding?

"With witnesses," she explained.

Jack's face brightened again. He nodded readily.

"And the Bible," she insisted.

He waved her off. He happened to have a Bible in his book collection. It was written in French, but it would do.

"And I want a dress."

 _Upping the stakes or having second thoughts and not knowing how to make a gracefully retreat without admitting defeat, love?_ , Jack thought amusedly.

"Done."

"You said you had no dress in your cabin."

He raised his forefinger.

"In my cabin," he clarified. "I never said anything about the rest of the ship."

"Also, I want a ring."

Jack wriggled his beringed fingers happily, letting the sun catch the colourful gems.

"Take your pick. Anything else?"

She paused for a moment.

"Yes. You'll take a bath," she said triumphantly.

Jack opened his mouth to protest against that outrageous demand, but she stopped him before he could get out a word.

"No bath, no wedding," she warned firmly.

He snapped his mouth shut and glared at her. It was not like he would let it be an excuse for her to back out.

"Deal," he said extending his hand for her to shake. There was a tiniest bit of doubt in her eyes before she took it.

Jack grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first time writing Jack's point of view, so let me know how I did!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long! I didn't give up on this story! And see? This chapter is longer than the last one!

_Previously:_

_Jack opened his mouth to protest against that outrageous demand, but she stopped him before he could get out a word._

_"No bath, no wedding," she warned firmly._

_He snapped his mouth shut and glared at her. It was not like he would let it be an excuse for her to back out._

_"Deal," he said extending his hand for her to shake. There was a tiniest bit of doubt in her eyes before she took it._

_Jack grinned._

* * *

Elizabeth let her gaze linger on Jack as he waltzed away shouting orders and threw himself into flurry of activity. She shook her head at his antics. Not for the first time, she wondered what it was about this man, that made him so damn charming, despite his being completely insufferable. She wondered what he would do next. She pushed down the small ball of uneasiness the thought awoke, but then inwardly scoffed at herself for being ridiculous. Everything she knew about Jack Sparrow spoke against it being remotely plausible for him to go through with the insane plan he had just painted to her. She fully expected him to put up a front, though, and to make a whole spectacle out of the preparations to the supposed wedding, just to rattle her in hopes that she would lose her nerve and admit her defeat.

That'd be the day! She would _not_ be the first one to back out. Let _him_ sweat. Who knew, maybe he would even go as far as fulfilling her condition and actually getting a good scrub? She smiled at the thought.

She had to admit that sailing on the _Black Pearl_ was much more enjoyable than sailing on the _Edinburgh Trader_ had been, and not just because Jack had instantly given her her own cabin, or because she did not have to fear someone would discover her identity anymore. While sneaking onto a ship and travelling on her own had had a certain trill to it, it had been only when she had stepped onto the _Pearl_ 's black deck when she felt like she could finally breathe. She knew it was ridiculous, but it felt like coming home. Here, she could shed all pretences and just do whatever the hell she felt like doing. She could wear cheap, but heavenly practical clothes, work with the crew, climb the masts, curse and drink rum, not because she was _pretending_ to be one of them, but because it felt like she actually belonged with this crew – not because she was impersonating someone else, but because she was finally free to be herself…

 _Freedom_. Was that not what Jack had been talking about with a dreamy look on his face that night on the beach when they had been stranded on the deserted island? It seemed so long ago. Strange, she had mostly good memories from that tumultuous time, though she had been almost constantly in danger.

 _Had he been wrong, though?_ A small voice in her head asked. _Had Jack been wrong when he had talked about freedom?_

It had been probably one of the few times she had seen him open up and say something real. It was a bit scary that she could connect to him so keenly in that rare moment of honesty.

She was hit by a sudden flashback from that night – a sensory memory of lounging on the white sand, her upper body leaning against Jack's, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, the taste of rum both sweet and sharp on her tongue and the starry sky above them. She could perfectly recall the warmth of the fire mixed with the breeze from the sea. She had tricked Jack that night, but getting him drunk had been more fun than it probably should have been. She liked the singing and dancing part, and the easy banter, but she especially liked that peaceful moment she spent in his embrace when he talked about the things that truly mattered to him. It felt perfectly harmless at the time and it only occurred to her much later just how reckless her plan had been: flirting with a drunken pirate in the middle of nowhere, with no-one to intervene if things went south. Yet, it had never even crossed her mind that she should have been afraid of spending the night alone with Jack on that island and that teasing him at the same time as muddling his senses with alcohol might not have been the best of ideas. No, she was not afraid of Jack. Never had been. She was not sure where that certainty came from: she had not really had time to get to know him all that well, and he was one of the most brazen men she had encountered, but deep in her heart, there was some part of her that knew without a doubt: Jack did not wish to hurt her.

Which was probably one of the reasons why she was not more worried about that little game they had just engaged in – the others, like the quickening of her heart rate the second he brought up the subject, not to be examined too closely...

She felt a little guilty for enjoying both Jack's attention and this entire voyage a bit too much than it was prudent. She told herself that it was perfectly innocent: she was a young woman. Perhaps it was vain, but what young woman did not like to be admired? And she liked to explore the world. Was that wrong of her? So what if she would have this last grand adventure before settling down into a married life?

She sighed. Maybe Will and her would find a house by the sea, so she could at least look at the...

She frowned when she caught a drift of her own line of thoughts.

 _What was she thinking?! Wasn't_ _**marriage** _ _supposed to be her grand adventure?!_

Almost without thinking, she reached for Jack's forgotten offering – the bottle of rum – and raised it to her mouth, still deep in her musings.

"Miss Elizabeth?" a hesitant voice unexpectedly cut in, making her jump.

She choked on the brown liquid. The alcohol burned her throat and it took a few seconds before she stopped coughing.

"You gave me quite a scare, Mister Gibbs," she finally managed, blinking back the tears. She felt her cheeks burning from embarrassment.

"Aye," Gibbs said shifting uncomfortably. "Sorry 'bout that. I didn't mean to sneak up on you, Miss."

She waved him off.

"It's all right. I shouldn't have let myself drift away like that. What was it that you needed from me, Mister Gibbs?"

"Jack asked me to give you this," Gibbs said handing her a brass key.

Elizabeth gave him a puzzled look.

"What's this for?" she asked taking the key.

"He said to tell you that if you wanted to change and freshen up, everything would be ready in your cabin."

Elizabeth frowned.

"This is not a key to my cabin."

Gibbs only blinked helplessly.

"I don't really know anything more than that. You'd have to check for yourself."

"I suppose I will. Thank you, Mister Gibbs."

He gave her an awkward smile and made himself scarce as soon as he felt it was polite. Elizabeth got a sense that he did not feel comfortable playing a messenger between Jack and herself. She looked around, searching for Jack, only to find him staring directly at her from a distance. She bristled when she saw him winking and taking off his hat in an exaggerated bow. She huffed and turned on her heel before marching below the deck. It took her just long enough to catch the crew's groan of protest when Jack ordered them in rather colourful words to scrub the _Pearl_ until it shone, and then an amending cheer when he followed it with information that there would be a free round of rum for everybody later on, due to the "celebration".

Frankly, Elizabeth did not think that the ship even needed any cleaning. While Jack's personal hygiene _was_ a bit lacking (a fact that was thankfully at least partially rectified by his frequent dips in the ocean), he loved the _Black Pearl_ far too much to keep her anything but spotless. She did not think the Royal Navy ships were better taken care of than this dark beauty.

 _Who knows, maybe the Pearl even loves Jack back?,_ Elizabeth thought regaining good mood. _Maybe that's why she's the fastest ship in the Caribbean?_

She almost skipped the steps rushing to her cabin to see whatever mischief Jack had come up with to surprise her.

The second she rounded the corner and heard the voices coming from behind the open door to her cabin, it became apparent to her as to why Jack had thought it a good idea to have the key delivered to her own hands by his trusted first mate.

"...but why would the Capt'n want the Poppet to have a closed chest? Shouldn't we open it?"  
"It's locked."

"Exactly. What use could she possibly have for a locked chest?"

"What do you think is inside?"

"Thank you, gentlemen," Elizabeth said loudly, stepping into the cabin and making two pirates comically jump when they noticed her presence. "I'll get it from here."

She remembered them. They used to be members of Barbossa's cursed crew. They were the ones he had send after her when he had invaded her home in Port Royal in search of the Aztec gold. What where they doing on the _Pearl_?

She did not ask, simply accepting it as a fact, but gave them a stern look when they retreated from her cabin with sheepish, if not very intelligent grins plastered on their faces. For whatever reason, Jack must have decided that they did not pose a threat and she trusted his judgement on the matter, as he had no less reasons than herself to be suspicious of them, and frankly, they did not look dangerous as they were. Perhaps without Barbossa they were harmless.

She shut the door behind them and turned around to finally face the inside of her cabin.

As expected, there was a mysterious chest sitting on the floor, presumably locked to be open only by her with the assistance of the newly acquired key. That was not all, though. She also saw folded towels placed on the top of it, along with a bar of soap, a hairbrush and a hand mirror, and next to the chest there was…

 _...oh God, was that_ _**hot** _ _water?_

She quickly dipped her finger into the liquid to test the temperature and let out a contented sigh. It was just a wooden tub, but it did not matter. She have not had a chance to indulge in such luxury since leaving the governor's mansion and if there was one thing she missed most from that life, hot baths would make the top of the list.

She had to give it to Jack: as far as his attempts of buttering her up went, this one scored pretty high. It even seemed that she had been the one to inadvertently give him the idea.

She decided that she would leave examining the chest closer for later, and then proceeded to strip down before the water would have a chance to cool down... but not before making sure that the door to her cabin was locked and moving the chair so it would block the view from the key-hole. There were some suspicious noises from the corridor and she was not sure the duo of the pirates had left.

She took her time getting clean. She even washed her hair, something she had been reluctant to do in cold water. Sure, the Caribbean climate was warm, but there was just something about washing in cool water that sent chills down her spine and made the whole thing rushed and a bit unpleasant.

By the time she finished, she was thoroughly relaxed. She lazily dried herself and wrapped a towel around her body. She figured Jack would send someone later to remove the tub, so she did not bother with cleaning up. Since she did not feel like putting on her old clothes, she finally put the offered key into a good use and opened the chest, already suspecting what she would find inside.

There was a smaller wooden box laid on top of folded fabric and a note attached. Elizabeth lifted the thin scrap of paper and read: _Choose whatever you like._ She moved the box aside for the moment and reached for the clothes instead. The first outfit she fished out was the dark dress Barbossa had made her wear when she had been on the _Black Pearl_ the last time. She scrunched her nose. It was not that the dress was ugly, but she did not really like the mental image attached to it. She reached deeper and ended pulling out an admitably pretty, but rather sheer lacy piece she decided to be some kind of negligee, since she could not believe anyone would risk wearing it as a day dress. She rolled her eyes. _Jack._ Next, she dug up the pink and yellow dresses she vaguely recalled seeing on no other but Pintel and Ragetti. Well, that was not much better. She frowned disappointed but she saw a hem of one more cloth peeking from under the yellow dress. The unusual colour instantly caught her eye and she hurried to uncover the fabric.

She let out an involuntary sigh when the expanse of the finest Indian silk revealed itself to her eyes. She could not quite find a name for the unique shade she was looking at: she supposed "teal" would be the best word to describe it, though it seemed far too bland to capture the reality of its shimmering quality. It was as if the colour was not just a mixture of blue, green and silver, but like it was constantly changing depending on the light. The only thing she could compare it with was the sea.

She smoothed her hand over the delicate fabric, her fingers tracing the rich embroidery at the rim. This was a dress fit for a princess. This was _the_ dress.

Well… that is, if not for... Strictly speaking, it was not even a dress. It was a full, floor-length skirt and a… short blouse, she supposed. The thing was, it was not just the material that came from India, but the design as well. She had seen similar outfits on paintings and she knew it was not meant to be scandalous, is was just the way women dressed in other countries. Nevertheless… the way the two parts of the outfit were cut meant that anyone wearing it would be baring a not-so-thin stripe of skin on their midriff. Was she brave enough to walk around in it on deck of the ship manned by a male crew, salivating at the sight of the female flesh? She was not sure. Was she going to put the dress away without trying it on? Hell no.

Almost holding her breath, she slipped into the skirt and the blouse. The silk felt cool to the touch at first, but delightfully soft as well. It hugged her body like a glove without restricting her movements. Comparing to Elizabeth's European dresses, which were heavy and almost always squeezed her waist and chest in an uncomfortable fashion, this attire was heavenly light. She could barely feel it at all, to the point where it made her feel weird – almost as if she was naked – perhaps because there was no way she could wear a corset or a shift under it, so she had to put it on bare skin. She looked down at herself to judge the effect.

 _Oh, bugger,_ she thought, involuntarily repeating Jack's favourite curse word. She _wanted_ to be brave enough to wear it.

She lifted her arms and spun around experimentally. The skirt twirled and spread with like a peacock tail, the silk whispering softly as it shifted.

There was something very sensual and seductive about the outfit, but not only in a sense that it would catch a man's eye, even more so in a way it made her feel while wearing it: there was some kind of power in its mysterious beauty.

That last thought gave her a rather eccentric idea: she grabbed her belt and sword and buckled it on her hips, then added a pistol for a good measure. She instantly felt better. She knew it probably looked odd, but she did not care. If she was going to play a pirate bride, she would carry as many weapons as she liked, even if it was not a customary way of accessorising a wedding gown.

It was also not customary to show your stomach on your wedding.

...and she was _not_ getting married!

She blinked. Where did the thought even come from? For a moment there, she almost forgot it was all just a sham!

No matter. She decided it was not worth dwelling on. Curious as to what else Jack had sent her, she took the wooden box. She sat down on the edge of her bunk, put the box on her lap and carefully lifted the lid.

Her mouth fell open.

It seemed that Jack was not as broke as he appeared to be from the look of his worn-down clothes. It also explained even better why he did not want his crew to rummage through the contents of the chest. The box might have been small, but it carried a precious package: it was filled to the brim with various pieces of jewellery. Pirate's loot, not doubt. Not that that bothered her much – as she discovered with only smidgen of embarrassment. She hooked a finger and pulled out a string of garnets. The rocks clicked when she moved them. She looked at the beads dangling from her hand for a moment before carefully laying them down on the mattress next to her and reaching for the next piece that caught her eye.

She shifted through jade, opal and topaz, but then she noticed a cuff made of true diamonds and… was that an emerald pendant? Good God, it looked like Jack had a small fortune in here. And he wanted her to wear these? Well, she was not going to throw away that offer! She smirked. In fact, she thought she was going to put on as many as possible.

She felt drawn to the exotic patterns, perhaps because of the dress, so she chose a wide choker necklace made of gold and small gems that she thought went well with her new outfit and not one, two, three, four, but _five_ gold bracelets, including one shaped like a dragon curled around her upped arm and one – perhaps the most extravagant – with little bells, sitting on her ankle. Elizabeth frowned when she closed the clasp on that last one. She would not be able to wear it with her shoes. Oh well… She did not think the heavy boots fit the attire, anyway, and since it was warm enough and she was not going to step down on land, she could just go barefoot.

She decided that she liked the oriental fashion. She felt like a child playing dress-up – a little silly, yes, but more and more giddy with every passing moment. There was also a sense of mischief in doing something she knew she probably should not, but which was oh-so-enjoyable.

She was never good with sophisticated hair-dos, leaving that part to her maid, so she did not waste her time on trying to work with the few hair clips and pins she found in the box, instead opting for simply brushing her hair until it was completely smooth and leaving it loose to dry. She put away all the rings as well (Jack promised her one of his!) and turned her attention to the earrings. There was one in particular she liked: a pearl drop. The problem was, she could not find a pair. Finally, she realised that there simply was not one. It must have got lost, or maybe only one had been stolen to begin with. Actually… did it really matter?

 _Why the heck not?_ she thought before putting on the pearl earring and then pairing it with a ruby one. Perhaps Jack was rubbing off on her, but she was having too much fun for letting the thought worry her.

She stared at her reflection in the looking glass. She was rather pleased with herself, but she wished she had a bigger mirror.

She stilled at the thought. There _was_ a bigger mirror on the ship. She had seen it in the main cabin the night Barbossa had invited her to dine with him. Unless it had been destroyed during the battle, it should still be there.

There was a catch, of course. It was Jack's cabin now.

But he was not in there all the time, was he? He spent a lot time on deck and at the helm. All she would have to do was to wait for the right moment, then sneak into the cabin and steal a glance.

A remote part of her brain acknowledged that the prospect of risking getting caught snooping in Jack Sparrow's cabin should probably work as a repellant, instead of sending a thrill down her spine. She was not a gambling person, but perhaps she was not as immune to the vice as she had once thought.

Having established (and ignored) that, she quietly got up, left he room and closed the door. She cautiously made her way to the captain's quarters, making sure to stay in the shadows and walk as noiselessly as humanly possible. She realised that she had to move slowly because of her anklet, which – as she soon found out – was prone to soft jingling if she stomped her foot, but it was a short walk. During that time of the day most of the crew was on deck, so she did not have much trouble with staying undetected.

She almost reached Jack's cabin when she heard fast-paced steps from the inside, so she glued herself to the wall. Luck was on her side: the swinging door shielded her from Jack's view when he marched out of the cabin. She did not wait to wonder where he was going, instead slipping into the cabin while she knew it was empty.

She let out the breath she did not know she was holding and rested her back against the door before looking around.

Something was different. She noticed that even before she could start looking for what she came there for, and for a moment she forgot about the mirror. The cabin was lighter – free of the heavy drapes that had been hanging in the windows before. She should have known it had been Barbossa's addition, not Jack's – now, not doubt, mercilessly thrown away when the rightful owner had returned. The room looked simultaneously messier and tidier than before: more chaotic, but less dusty. She inhaled. More fresh air. Less grime. More objects to stumble upon. The furniture and the baubles themselves were quite pretty… and terribly mismatched. She did not even realise she was smiling.

Elizabeth walked through the room slowly, touching a few things on her way. There was no hiding that the cabin looked much more lived in as it was, and because Jack was quite possibly the most lively person she had ever encountered, it made all the difference. She knew that she was on the same ship, but the room she was looking at was barely matching the one from her memory: not just because of the actual changes that had been made during her absence, but because of the stark difference of the vibe it gave off.

Finally, she arrived at her destination: a full length floor mirror. And then she froze.

She was aware that she was a pretty girl. She heard it: that she was beautiful. She knew that in her mind. Hell, at times she was even proud of her looks. But right there, standing in the middle of the cabin on a pirate ship and looking at her reflection in the mirror, dressed in the most unusual attire she had ever put on, for the first time, she _felt_ beautiful.

At the same time, she could not snap out of the sudden sense of _deja vu_ , as the last time she had gazed at the looking glass had been on the morning of her interrupted wedding. She could not help but compare the two sights.

She remembered standing in front of the mirror in her bedroom in Port Royal, the maids fussing about her. Everyone had kept telling her that she had been a perfect bride. She could see the girl they had been talking about in the looking glass, but she had not felt like she had been that girl. She had had to agree with them, though, that the gown had been beautiful and because of that, she had not even minded that her corset had been laced so tightly that she could only take the shallowest of breaths. It had made her waist look smaller and she had wanted to look her best for her wedding, had she not? Her shoes had been pinching, too, but who would think about that on a such important day…

She remembered how pale she had looked – a translucent, fair complexion, highly desirable for a noblewoman, yet so different from the soft healthy glow she had now acquired from spending her days outdoors. Truth to be told, she had not felt very healthy at the moment. There had been a heavy weight in her stomach, threatening to come up to her throat, similarly to the questions begging to break the surface of her conscious thoughts. Her hands had felt cold and clammy, and there had been that slight tremor to her muscles she had struggled to hold back. The women around her had laughed when she had dared to mention that she had felt a little sick. _"_ _Wedding jitters,"_ they had said cheerfully, the tone of their voices assuring her that it had been something perfectly natural and to be expected.

_Wedding jitters._

Was that what she was feeling at the moment as well? That ball of nervousness mixed with excitement coiling low in her belly? Only it felt different – lighter, warmer, like a drum of grog instead of lead.

 _Maybe because it's not real_ – her sober mind whispered to her.

But the woman looking back at her from her reflection had a glint in her eye, as if she knew something Elizabeth did not. She looked beautiful in her own right, though completely different than the nervous bride-to-be from her memory. She looked bold and strong, yet not at all masculine. She looked like someone who knew what they wanted and was not afraid to take it; someone who would not be content with compromising.

Skirt or sword. Pearls or rubies. A governor's daughter or a pirate. Smart or brave. Pretty or strong. Love or freedom.

Somewhere along the way, she had forgotten, or maybe she had never figured that out before: the real pirate did not choose. They took it all. And they did not apologise.

Suddenly, she decided that she wanted them – Jack, and _everybody_ – to see her like this _,_ even if it was but a mirage, to disappear in a puff of smoke at a closer look. She wanted to know what it was like to be that woman, even if only for a short while.

Her eyes landed on the small bottle standing next to the mirror. _Jack's khol._ She smiled wickedly. She just found a perfect way to finish her look.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it would be too much to expect Elizabeth to figure out how to operate a sari on her own, so what she's actually wearing here is a lehenga and choli. Also, the bath for Lizzie was kind of an afterthought - after all, he is the one clearly in more need of it - but then I thought, come on, am I supposed to make him keep the tub and the hot water all to himself? He can be a gentleman this one time. And so you have it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story behind writing this chapter is, that once Jack spotted Lizzie, he really was struck speechless, and he wasn't talking to me for some time. Luckily, he recovered.
> 
> Enjoy.
> 
> (I still don't own these characters. I'm just comandeering them for the moment).

Gibbs cleared his throat:

"Captain..."

Jack scrunched his nose.

"More meat," he ordered making a circular gesture with his hand. "Everyone eats their fill tonight."

"Aye, Captain!" a bit mystified, but rather pleased Marty replied.

"Jack!" Gibbs called again.

Jack whirled around.

"What seems to be the matter, Master Gibbs?"

"Can we talk for a moment?"

"'m a bit busy, mate."

Gibbs grabbed Jack's unusually clean sleeve, but he let go of it immediately under the captain's scornful look. Thankfully, Jack let himself be led to the side.

"What's going on, Jack?" Gibbs asked quietly. "What has gotten into you?"

Jack gave him a perfectly innocent, round-eyed look.

"What do you mean?"

"All of this… the feast… the free rum… you..." Gibbs looked his friend up and down, as if he was about to comment on his freshened up state, but Jack gave him such a glare that he knew better than to push it. "What are you doing, Jack? Should I be worried?"

"Worried?" this time Jack sounded sincerely mystified.

"You're not saying goodbye to this world, are you?"

Jack grinned. _This_ was exactly why he did not bathe more often. It made people antsy.

He patted Gibbs on the shoulder.

"Nay. I'm just getting married."

"Ahhh..." a good-natured smile stretched Gibbs' mouth, but then, in the next second, his face fell when Jack's words really registered. "Wait… what?"

He ran after the captain, who was already halfway to deck by then.

"Jack! Jack, what do you mean you're getting m..."

He almost bumped into Jack staring down at former Commodore and shut his mouth firmly. He had enough sense to know that revealing Jack's unexpected declaration in that particular company might lead to trouble.

Norrington was apathetically scrubbing the deck. Jack frowned. He had inexplicable sympathy for the unfortunate man, who had been so glaringly destined to fail in the duel for Elizabeth's heart from the beginning. He could not, however, hold back the childish urge to use the opportunity and taunt the former opponent.

"You missed a spot," he said pointing a stain with the tip of his boot.

Norrington looked up and glared at him from under the unkept strands of hair obscuring his eyes, before going back to his task.

Jack promptly continued his inspection of the deck. He glanced at Cotton standing at the helm and then at the sails billowed with the wind, the lucid part of his brain – and yes, there _was_ a lucid part, thank you very much – noting that they were going at high speed, which was a good thing, considering that they still needed to get to Isla Cruces as quickly as humanly possible. Also, he wanted his _Pearl_ to look perfect and she looked her best when she was racing the Caribbean waters.

He rolled his shoulders distractedly. He felt odd in a fresh shirt. It was all wrong: too white and too stiff. Sure, it smelt nice, but he could constantly feel it touching his skin. It did not have his _shape_ yet. Not to mention that he felt a little ridiculous sporting a crisp outfit like that. Not that he did not like to look good… in fact, he considered his good looks one of his most strategic assets, but he had a reputation to maintain.

He thought he deserved at least a kiss for his effort.

"Jack!" he heard. It was Gibbs again, no doubt intent on asking him some pesky questions Jack would rather avoid answering, especially since he was not sure he was ready to think about them just yet. Perhaps, he could pretend he did not hear him? Was there not something he needed to do?

Ah, get the Bible. He smirked. She wanted a _proper wedding._

With that excuse, he turned on his heel and almost run to his cabin, but he was back in a few minutes.

"Jack."

A pair of boots appeared in his vision, making him come to an abrupt halt. He looked up to find his first mate looking a bit out of breath, yet unfortunately standing directly in front of him and blocking his path. Jack's mouth twitched in annoyance.

"Jack, you can't do this" Gibbs whispered frantically, completely ignoring the stony glare Jack was giving him.

"And what exactly is that, that you seem to think I can't do, Master Gibbs?" Jack asked icily.

He was a captain on his ship. He could do whatever he _damn_ pleased.

"You can't just..." Gibbs trailed off and felt a little uneasy when he saw Jack pursing his lips. He also noticed the heavy tome tucked under Jack's arm.

_He could not really mean it, could he?!_

"You're not being serious," Gibbs said almost pleadingly.

"Never stopped me before."

"But it's Miss Elizabeth," Gibbs tried to reason in a low voice. He nervously looked around to check if anyone could hear their conversation.

"My point exactly."

"She's not just some..."

"I know very well who she is and who she's not, Master Gibbs," Jack cut him off. "Contrary to what you might think about my state of mind and self-conduct, I was perfectly aware of her being her and not someone else when I made my proposal."

Gibbs looked at him dumbfounded.

"She wouldn't agree to this" he said doubtfully.

In an instant, Jack's whole face lit up, but there was a gleam in his eyes Gibbs knew only too well: his friend might be telling the truth, but with Jack, there was always more than one truth. Which meant it might very well not be the _whole_ truth.

"She did," Jack said, pleased as a punch.

There was not much room to argue left after that revelation, so Gibbs slightly deflated, though he still felt very much troubled.

"Since when do you even entertain thoughts of getting married?" Gibbs finally asked, defeated.

To Gibbs' ever-growing surprise, Jack wrinkled his forehead and fell deep in thought, as if he was actually trying to browse his memory for the answer.

_Since when, indeed._

An hour? A year?

He _had_ been ending up near the Port Royal waters strangely often in the course of the last few months, while he had been trying to solve the issue of finding a way to wriggle out of his upcoming payment of the deal with Jones, a task hindered by the increasing moodiness of his compass – which was probably one of the reasons for why Norrington disliked him so much, because it sure seemed like he had been teasing the Royal Navy on purpose.

"Since I do," was his resolute reply.

 _There._ Short. Simple. Not even a lie.

He sidestepped Gibbs, apparently considering the conversation closed, and he started walking away.

"What about Will?" Gibbs called after him and Jack felt the muscles on his back stiffening. He paused for a moment, but then continued without looking over his shoulder.

"'m terribly sorry for the lad, but I think I'll pass," he tossed on his way. "I'm not going to marry _him_. I'm already spoken for, ye see. He can be a bridesmaid if he wants, though."

 _What about Will, what about Will…_ _What about him?! -_ Jack mocked in his head.

_Well, ye did leave him to Davy Jones' mercy and now ye're going after his girl. That's a little low, don't ye think?_

_He is not bound to the ship by any oath, so if he has some brains, he's going to figure out eventually that he can simply leave, preferably with the key… Unless he'll do something stupid._

Jack furrowed his brows again. That _did_ sound like William.

Regardless… Will had had his chance. Now was _Jack's_ chance. And he did not intend to waste it.

_She's not going to come._

_Maybe not. But she_ _**might.** _

_Come to her senses, more like –_ his internal dialogue continued.

_She will. I mean, she won't. That is, she'll come to her senses and realise that coming to me side is the most sensible thing she can do._

_Let's say ye're right. What then?_

_What when?_

_Well, Gibbs was onto something. Ye're not exactly a husband material. Ye're not going to settle down, live on land, find an honest job or…_

_So what?! So what if I'm not perfect and good like certain..._

Jack stopped his movements and absent-mindedly stared over the railing. His conscience always took the least opportune moments to rear its head.

 _It doesn't matter,_ the next thought floated before he could dwell any further on the subject.

_And why is that?_

_Because she'll be long gone before that even becomes a problem,_ came an unexpected reply from the depth of his restless mind. _She won't hold me to uphold my vows if she wants her own vows unwoven, savvy?_

He rocked on his heels. Strangely, the last thought, that should have unburdened his reckless heart, was carrying a hint of melancholy. Jack set his eyes on the horizon where the sun was slowly beginning to set. He knew that the more time would pass, the more likely it was that Elizabeth would reconsider their deal. Which begged a question: why give her any more time to think?

 _Enough of the idle musings_ , he scolded himself. If he let it go on, he was in danger of becoming worse than the whelp.

He twirled around and zeroed his eyes on the closest crew member.

"You!" he said. "Go to Miss Swann's cabin, knock on her door and tell her that I'm ready when she is."

_Let's keep it a challenge. Worked well enough the first time._

What he could not quite predict – delightfully so – was the way she would choose to challenge him back. That was, perhaps, one of Elizabeth's most entertaining qualities.

She took her sweet time answering his invitation. He had gathered the crew on deck, by then, making good on his promise to provide witnesses. Now it was turn for Elizabeth's move.

 _Would she, or would she not? -_ he wondered.

Her arrival was announced by sudden hush that fell over the crew. The pirates grew uncharacteristically quiet when she stepped on deck and they seemed to part before her, which was quite unusual behaviour for them. It was only when Jack caught his first real glimpse of Elizabeth when he understood that they had likely been struck speechless by the sight, as he felt his own mouth going dry before watering. Much to his surprise, he also noticed that his heart was pounding away in his chest.

She looked utterly, devastatingly gorgeous and he could not stop himself from raking his eyes over her, taking in all the details of her appearance, a singular thought washing away all traces of doubt and guilt from before: he would be insane _not_ to marry her. No man in their right mind would possibly contemplate throwing away that opportunity.

She looked like a sea-nymph from a pagan myth, a temptress called to existence purposely to haunt the sailors' dreams. The oriental garb and jewellery transformed her into a sensual creature he had always suspected her to be under the layers of well-bred manners and corsets, now staring defiantly right into his eyes. It made him feel thrilled and oddly proud, though not surprised to see her so wild and free _,_ what with the loose hair, already getting tangled by the wind tugging on it, her right hand resting on the pistol unapologetically strapped to her waist and the darkly painted eyes. The thought of her stealing his kohl made him smirk. He did not mind at all, if anything, it rather pleased him that she would do that, and he certainly liked how it made her look: fierce, seductive and – interestingly enough – _his._ He congratulated himself for the whim that made him send her so many precious trinkets to choose from. It worked wonderfully. She was beautiful enough to make the eccentric and seemingly too-lavish-for-current-surroundings outfit work in her favour instead of making her appear out of place or crude. So much female skin on display should have caused an eruption of indecent comments, but there was something in the regal way Elizabeth held her head, the cat-like, dangerous grace she moved with, the infuriating, irresistible mixture of genteel and savage, soft and sharp, fragile and fearless, that made the poor bastards too intimidated and struck with wonder to even open their mouths. She was a queen, a goddess in turquoise and gold and _she knew that_.

She moved smoothly toward Jack, holding his gaze that he was sure reflected the wolfish hunger consuming him at the moment, a glint of both challenge and amusement sizzling in her eye and _by God, he wanted her._

"Captain Sparrow," she said resolutely, "you called for me."

"Indeed," he replied, glad to find that his voice had not abandoned him. He took her both hands in his and kissed them gallantry, grinning when he saw the faint blush colouring her cheeks. "May I say, the Indian fashion rather becomes you. You look ravishing."

_She was glorious._

A small, pleased smile curled a corner of her lips. Jack swiftly turned to face the men gathered on deck.

"Hold this," he told a flabbergasted Gibbs handing him the Bible, before addressing the crew: "Dearly beloved!" he called, causing Elizabeth to roll her eyes in exasperation.

_She looked so sure of herself… Just wait, darlin'. We'll see just how funny you'll find me later on._

"We gathered here today..." that part actually attracted the attention of the men, since they had been fruitlessly wondering among themselves what was the purpose for that gathering, "to celebrate..." a cheer interrupted him until he frowned and the pirates quieted again, "a holy union between meself" all eyes focused on his person confused and disbelieving, "and Miss Elizabeth Swann. Witnessed by… you."

At first, all conversations ceased, as if cut by a knife, and then the murmurs started. The crew looked dumbfounded, shooting looks to each other to confirm they had heard correctly. Gibbs' forehead was scrunched so hard that Jack worried it might stay this way.

Jack cleared his throat.

"Let us proceed," he said cheerfully.

"I object!" someone called from the far away part of the ship and the crew parted to reveal James Norrington staring daggers at Jack.

Jack scowled. He should have thought to lock the scoundrel in the brig in advance.

"Objection dismissed," he bit back in annoyance. He knew that technically there was a part of ceremony where he was supposed to ask the guests to voice their objections, but he rather hoped he would manage to avoid it, and anyway, _he had not posed the question yet._

"Miss Swann cannot marry you, as she is already engaged to someone else," Norrington continued non-pulsed and Jack decided that the feelings of empathy he had held for the man had been rather premature. Elizabeth frowned, raising his alarm. He needed to act fast.

All eyes turned to Jack waiting for his reply.

"Her being previously engaged is of no consequence," Jack countered quickly. "In fact, she had been engaged _more than once_ in the past, yet it is not an obstacle for her getting married in the present, as she is currently not, nor has been married before, savvy?"

Jack and Norrington glared at each other from across the deck, the latter growing increasingly red by a second. Elizabeth shifted uncertainly, but before she could open her mouth, Ragetti's face brightened and a big smile split his face.

"The Captain's right!" he exclaimed with a joyous relief. "It's only having a husband, not a fiancé, that poses a problem in getting married."

Jack made a mental note to remember that moment the next time he would ask himself a question as to why exactly he was tolerating the rat's presence on his ship. The pirates nodded their heads and exchanged words of agreement.

"Elizabeth, what in the world are you doing? Has he addled your brain? You can't be seriously be on board with this," Norrigton scoffed.

Elizabeth stared at him blankly. Her face was unreadable.

"On board," Pintel chuckled elbowing Ragetti.

Norrington threw his hands in the air in a gesture of defeat.

"I refuse to watch this travesty unfold," he said before marching away.

"Excellent!" Jack said taking it as his cue to continue. "Does anyone else wish to _speak now or forever hold their piece_?" he asked looking so sternly, that it made it quite plain that they had better not speak, or else they would be forced to never speak again. "Well then..." He quickly turned to Elizabeth and squeezed her hand before releasing it momentarily. He felt that he had no time to lose before something else happened or someone else said something that might interrupt his plan. "I believe I promised you a ring, Miss Swann. Which one would you prefer?"

He raised his hands to his face and then turned them to display the gems for her.

She eyed him suspiciously. She still looked like she was not at all convinced that he was not pulling a joke on her.

"Which one is your favourite?" she asked brazenly and he had to chuckle at her nerve. Oh, how much he enjoyed her spunk.

Good. He needed her to stay in this mood as long as possible.

It crossed his mind that the very qualities that he valued the most in her were probably the same that would make most men question her ability to make a good wife: she was spirited, independent, opinionated and outspoken – everything women were traditionally frowned upon for.

"This one," he answered truthfully pointing to the silver skull ring set with an emerald gem on his right hand.

Elizabeth's eyes zeroed on the jewel. She took his hand to inspect the ring closer. She hummed appraisingly. He enjoyed her touch, but he was smart enough not to outwardly react.

"I rather like it," she decided.

Jack's mouth twitched in amusement. It was an unusual choice for a wedding ring, though the bauble was quite fetching (if one liked skulls, that is), but then again, he was fairly certain that was the least important reason for why she would want it. Luckily for her, while Jack liked his shiny like any other pirate, he was not afflicted with obsessive greed. He was always seeking new treasures, but spending them came as easily to him as gaining them could be difficult. Jack was a hedonist, but as much as he enjoyed the earthly riches and the luxuries they could buy, collecting gold had never been his main motivation for choosing pirate's life. No, he liked to think that he had his priorities straight where it came to the material things: he knew well enough that sometimes it was smarter to part with the pile of cash when holding onto it would cause you to lose something else, more important. That was probably why he found himself chronically penniless, but still alive and most of the time a free man. That was also why he did not as much as bat an eyelash before taking the ring off his finger.

"Then you shall have it, m'lady," he said, flashing her a rakish smile.

He took her hands again and slipped the ring on her thumb, as it was the only finger it would fit, and placed her other hand on the Bible that was still held by a standing nearby Gibbs, causing the latter to whine.

"Jack..."

"Hush!" Jack shot to his first-mate-turned-lectern before ignoring him completely.

Gibbs spluttered and then shut his mouth.

_Hush?!_

"Now, where were we..." Jack continued.

There was a slight tremor in Elizabeth's hand when Jack unnecessarily rubbed his thumb against her knuckles above the ring, but otherwise, she did not show any sign of distress, when she prepared herself to make a gamble.

He knew there were probably some other, _boring_ parts of the ceremony he was supposed to perform, but he was not very fond of repeating words that someone other than himself had put together, so he decided to smoothly (at least in his opinion) skip to the main event.

"Do you," he said, "Elizabeth Swann, take me, Captain Jack Sparrow, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, for as long as we shall both live?

There. He hoped he got it mostly right.

Only then the gravity of the moment fully registered with him. There it was, in the open: _the_ question. His eyes bore into hers and he found himself holding his breath waiting for her answer.

It was daft. He knew that. It was perhaps the most harebrained thing he could do at the moment. He _should_ wish for her to decline. Yet what he craved, irrationally, irrespon...

"I do," the words rang heavily yet clearly in the air.

She stared right back at Jack, her eyes a little wide, as if she was not sure she heard herself right. He was not sure which one of them looked more shocked.

"And to obey?" he added hopefully, as if in afterthought, effectively breaking the tension.

She scoffed, her expression changing quickly back to relaxed, mostly indulging and even slightly amused, as if he had just reminded her that he was not to be treated too seriously.

"I will most certainly _not_ ," she sneered.

Jack shrugged apologetically, indicating that he never expected her to promise that.

"Had to try," he explained.

Elizabeth smiled mockingly, a daring, near triumphant glint in her hazel eyes.

She thought she had him cornered. That now he would have no choice but to admit his defeat. She was so certain she had him figured, that she convinced herself there could not be possibly any other outcome...

...what she did not understand, was that his goal in this game had never been for her to give up, but to give _in_.

Jack's answering smile was slow to bloom and positively wicked. He laid his free hand on the Bible.

"Do I," he started, deliberately weighing his words in the near perfect silence that fell over the deck since he had uttered the words of the vow, "Captain Jack Sparrow, take you, Elizabeth Swann, to be my lawfully wedded wife, to have," he shot her a salaciously suggestive glance, "and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for, _bloody wish that'd not be the case_ , poorer, in sickness and in heath, for as long as we shall both live?"

He looked up at the sky, as if looking for a clue, and tapped his finger against his mouth. Elizabeth sighed loudly and shifted her weight impatiently.

Suddenly, he looked down again, a brilliant smile on his face.

"I do!" he said, making Elizabeth jump a little.

She rapidly blinked several times.

"I hereby pronounce us man and wife," Jack finished quickly, before she could overcome her stupor.

She stared at him questioningly, and still clearly disbelievingly, a small frown forming on her forehead.

"I may kiss the bride," he blurted gleefully. It was his favourite sentence of the whole rite.

She was just opening her mouth to say something, when he silenced her by turning his words into actions.

He may be a dead man walking, but he would be damned if he died before kissing her at least once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't be shy! Tell me what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay... this chapter got out of control. All it took was a plot bunny in form of giving Jack a guitar (yes, you read that right) and then poof! - somehow, a completely unplanned, made-up backstory appeared. That's also why it's so long.
> 
> Anyway, here it is. I hope I didn't overdo it.
> 
> P.S. I still don't own anything.

Previously:

_I hereby pronounce us man and wife," Jack finished quickly, before she could overcome her stupor._

_She stared at him questioningly, and still clearly disbelievingly, a small frown forming on her forehead._

_"I may kiss the bride," he blurted gleefully. It was his favourite sentence of the whole rite._

_She was just opening her mouth to say something, when he silenced her by turning his words into actions._

_He may be a dead man walking, but he would be damned if he died before kissing her at least once._

* * *

**EPOV**

How exactly had this happened? And _what_ exactly had just happened? It could not really… It was not possible that he had actually… She must have got confused, or there must have been some kind of a catch she had not thought of, because he would have never… It was not possible!

She stared at Jack, sure that she had misheard him, too stunned to react in any way other than to blink helplessly, unable to believe her senses just yet.

And then he kissed her.

That sure felt real. In fact, it felt _so real_ , that the rest of the world faded away until it became white noise in the background of her mind. The only thing that seemed tangible were Jack's lips moving against her own, their texture, temperature and – after she gasped in surprise, unwittingly opening her mouth – taste. There was something thrilling about the way he tasted that made her blood run faster. She felt her bare toes curl and, through her haze, she realised that _she was kissing him back._ She could have blamed it on the shock, or the fact that her unreleased argument somehow translated into motion, but the truth was, that Jack Sparrow could kiss a girl like nobody's business, and she knew damn well that she was not entirely impervious to his devilish charms. And if it was the battle that spurred her on, then she had to remember that she had always rather enjoyed sparring.

She was not sure which one of them had closed the gap between them, but she found herself pressed against his chest and her treacherous body arched at the contact. One of Jack's hands tangled in her hair, angling her head for better access while the other splayed across her lower back. A flush of heat shot down her nerves and curled low in her belly at the feel of the roughened fingers against the strip of naked skin between the short top she was wearing and the edge of her skirt.

A startling thought crossed her mind: was that what a kiss was _supposed_ to feel like?

She had _read_ about kisses like that – the breath-stealing, knee-weakening, maddening kisses – but she had thought them a fabrication of the writers. That it was just a part of the thrilling, fictional worlds they were weaving. A healthy dose of exaggeration and a touch of poetry, perhaps? She had come to that conclusion a long time ago. It was silly to expect it to really… That was not what a young lady like herself was supposed to want… Surely, kisses were meant to sooth, not to inflame, anyway… even if it had been a bit disappointing to find out that the novels had been lying…

_Or had they?_

She could not recall it ever feeling this way with… with… what was his name…

Something that sounded like a particularly loud whistle startled her and she finally broke the liplock, gasping for breath. She looked around in daze, other senses beside touch and taste coming back into focus. She was surrounded by the lot of the grinning pirates, who now seemed rather enthusiastic about the situation for a change, judging from all the clapping, whooping and cheering they were doing.

Elizabeth turned back to Jack only to get temporarily distracted by his closeness once again. She could feel his breath on her face as his chest rose and fell, almost as fast as her own. His chocolate-brown eyes had darkened to the point of black, like two burning coals, and they were trained directly on her, his gaze unfaltering and so intense she could almost touch it. She could not look away.

He licked his lips. Only then she felt the wave of heat make its way under her skin up her chest and neck, all the way to her face, to bloom into what she was sure to be a spectacular blush.

She could not focus on much else than the fact that Jack's arm was still wrapped around her waist, his chest pressing into hers with every intake of breath he took.

"Shiver me timbers!" Cotton's parrot squawked loudly, momentarily diverting Elizabeth's attention.

She missed entirely the moment Jack moved, but he must have, since he was suddenly holding a paper in his free hand, which – as she later deduced – he somehow managed to get out from between the pages of the Bible without turning away from her. She blinked, and she could swear that was all it took for him to produce a quill, seemingly out of thin air, and push it into her hand.

"Here. Your signature," he explained without really explaining anything, tapping at the empty space at the bottom of the page, but all she could concentrate on was the timbre of his voice. It sounded husky. Urgent. And very persuasive.

And so – God help her! - she was so overwhelmed, that it did not occur to her foggy brain to question him any further until _after_ she had already scribbled her name mechanically on the spot pointed by him.

"What for?" she asked belatedly, dumbly watching him put his own signature next to hers.

"Posterity," he answered without missing a beat and pushed the paper into Gibbs' waiting hands before she could get another look at it. What was that? What had she just thoughtlessly signed? Was that… Or was it something else entirely? Was _that_ his trick?

Before she could spare another thought on the topic, Jack twirled her until she was pressed against his side rather than his front and called out: "A toast!"

 _That_ got the pirates erupting into a cheer with an enthusiasm that was quite obviously genuine. The rum was brought from the cellar with impressive speed and soon Elizabeth found herself clutching her own tin cup filled to the brim with the brown liquid.

"To the newlyweds!" Marty said raising his cup.

"Aye!" the pirates applauded.

"To the Captain!" Gibbs called, apparently deciding that there was nothing left for him to do other than to back Jack in whatever he was doing.

"Aye!"

"And the Poppet!" Pintel added.

"AYE!"

"Look down, you gods, and on this blessed couple drop a crown," Ragetti uttered with a voice breaking with emotion. The following "aye" was a little uncertain and less loud, as the crew seemed a bit confused by the fancy phrase. "It was such a beautiful ceremony," the one-eyed pirate murmured bashfully, brushing a stray tear from his cheek.

"To me lovely bride," Jack said in low voice, clinking his cup against Elizabeth's.

_Actually, a drop of alcohol did not seem like a bad idea at the moment._

Instead of giving him any sort of reply, she simply gulped on the rum. Jack grinned when she did not choke. She was not sure which factor was to blame more for the fire that spread through her veins: the liquor or the look Jack was giving her.

Was it normal? Her reaction to him? She could not recall having such hard time concentrating in a man's presence before. She always thought that women did not behave this way: that they did not… lust after men, simply because the men in question looked attractive. To desire your beloved was a different matter but this…

... _but it's not like you don't like Jack, is it?_

Well… Surely, _liking_ someone should not be enough of a reason to justify… She should be _mad_ at him for tricking her and not… not… what was it that she felt, exactly?

Jack's hand settled on her hip and his thumb rubbed the skin just above the hemline of her skirt in a lazy caress, effectively distracting her. Elizabeth shivered. She might be fairly innocent, but not as innocent as to not guess what he wanted with her. What was more confusing, though, was how hard it was for her to summon the much justified sense of indignation the idea should evoke…

...rather than wonder how these coarse, brown hands would feel roaming freely over her body.

She needed to talk to Jack, to demand explanation – but by the time she finally gathered her wits enough to ask him why he had done what he had and what was really going on, the line of the pirates had formed before her and Jack, all of the crew waiting for their turn to approach them with good wishes and small offerings. Jack welcomed them all with the solemnity of an emperor receiving tributes from the emissaries of the conquered lands. She watched him accepting the oddest of the improvised gifts with a straight face: three coppers; a pinch of tobacco; a shark's tooth; a parrot's feather; an empty canteen; a chipped fork. Every pirate remembered to give a nod to Elizabeth as well, and she suddenly felt like some kind of tribal queen.

The last one to talk to them was Gibbs. He simply looked from one of them to the other and then shook his head.

"Never thought I'd see the day...," he said, "I wish you all the best, but I'll settle on you not killing each other. Now, I really need a drink."

Jack saluted to him with his cup.

"Help yerself, mate. Drink our health, aye?"

Elizabeth felt Jack's arm pushing her to move, but she stood her ground and finally faced him. He let her stop him with a grip on his arm and returned her stare. She opened her mouth, but hesitated. Of all the questions jammed in her throat only one escaped:

"Why, Jack?"

Assuming the wedding was valid, why would he be so pleased of the outcome? Why would he want to trick her into marrying him? It seemed like a rather steep price to pay.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Jack's lips, but it was not his usual puckish smirk. He brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face with gentle fingers and she suddenly decided that glancing at his mouth might have not been the smartest course of action.

"'cause I couldn't resist," Jack said. "All things bright an' shiny… I'm a pirate, love. And you shine the brightest of 'em all."

"You're the one who put all the jewels on me," she protested weakly.

"'m not talking 'bout the jewels, darlin'."

Damn him, but he made her melt. It was silly to let a few pretty words chip away her defences, since Jack could probably sweet-talk all creatures female and then some, the damn fraud he was, but she did feel flattered. She told herself that that was probably something that every woman in his orbit had been deluding herself into believing, but her instincts were telling her that he was not lying this time. She could not recall Jack paying her a compliment before that day, and certainly not like this one. She could not find it in herself to protest when he leaned in for another kiss: this one light and chaste, but no less devastating.

"So what now?" she asked looking up at him, still only half-believing all of that had actually happened. The sweetness of the caress was the most confusing thing she had encountered since the beginning of the journey.

"Now, we put all the worries away and enjoy ourselves… and the fact that we're still alive, as of today. Have fun, love. It's your wedding."

She knew she should stop this right that moment, if it was not too late already. But there was something she did not understand, yet wanted to: the light dancing in the depths of his eyes, seemingly too joyous to come from a simple satisfaction of the trick well played; the way his arm curled around her, as if it was both the most natural thing in the world and a wonder to behold; the strange gentleness hiding in the corners of his rogue's smile.

 _Is it possible for lust to be tender?,_ she mused.

And so she let him guide her across the deck, back toward the stairs where she had been ambushed by him earlier today, and sit her on the steps.

"Hungry?" Jack asked. Initially, she wanted to say no, but then the scent of the hot meal wafted to her and she felt her stomach responding, reminding her that she had not eaten much since embarking the  _Black Pearl_ , so she simply nodded. She thought it was a good way to stall as well. She was not sure how to proceed and eating saved her from the necessity of talking just yet.

Jack handed her a bowl of stew and a slice of bread. The stew smelled unexpectedly appetising comparing to the food that had been served to the crew on the _Edinburgh Trader_ , and since there was a big chance that the _Pearl_ 's supplies had been recently refreshed in Tortuga, she had been cautiously optimistic when she dug in. She was not disappointed, a small favour to be grateful for, only then realising how hungry for a chance for a _decent_ meal she really was. She did not even care if Jack was watching her or not, but she was pretty sure that her contentment was apparent on her face, and even if not, the fact that she was soon scrapping the bottom of the bowl and wiping it with the bread would have given her away. God, how she loved that no-one expected her to act ladylike here.

She was reminded of Jack's presence only when he spoke again:

"Good?" he asked, and she looked up at him, slightly embarrassed.

He was sitting close-by with his own meal. He sounded amused, but looked pleased and vaguely proud of something. She made an affirmative sound, too busy with chewing to answer verbally.

"I'm glad," he said before flushing the food with a sip of rum.

 _So, first he dressed you, then he fed you. I wonder whatever comes next?_ \- a sarcastic voice inside her head mused.

The full belly and the alcohol relaxed her, though. Her body was sending her no signals to fight or flee. She would lie if she said that Jack's attention had been unwelcome. Sure, he had his own agenda, but he was good company. She looked around. The sun was setting over the ocean, painting a spectacular view in the distance. The crew was mostly at leisure, mingling on deck, eating, drinking, chatting and laughing. She even heard a few uncertain voices breaking into a song, before strengthening after a few lines.

This was… nice. She realised that had it not been for the nagging worry of the consequences, she would have been thoroughly enjoying herself, just like Jack had advised her.

She shifted uncomfortably. She had the oddest sense of guilt for thinking of disrupting the current mood by voicing her issues with the latest turn of events. Nevertheless, she had to.

Had she not?

She glanced at Jack. He looked… happy. Why the bloody hell would he look so happy? Why was he doing this to her?

This was ridiculous. Why would she even care? He tricked her. She had never meant to marry him. This was not what was supposed to happen. She was supposed to marry Will.

_Will._

Oh God, she was a horrible person, was she not?

She licked her lips and swallowed.

"Jack," she said, but her voice came out much softer than she intended, almost meek. He looked up at her, making what she was about to say even more difficult because of the eye-contact. She was suddenly annoyed by the hopeful look he gave her. How could she tell him that she did not want him? She snorted inwardly. Things would be so much simpler if _that_ was the truth. "I..." She got only as far as that with the next sentence, when a sight that she caught out of the corner of her eye distracted her. She frowned.

"What are they doing?" she asked instead.

Jack turned following the line of the sight. A group of three pirates were standing nearby, shuffling their feet and elbowing each other. Jack beckoned them to come closer.

"What is it, gentlemen?" he asked.

"We were just wondering..."

"That is, we wanted to ask..."

"...since this is a wedding, and we are celebrating..."

"...could we, perhaps..."

"...of course, only if it's all right..."

Elizabeth stared at them trying to make sense of what they were saying.

"What do you want?" Jack asked.

The pirates exchanged scared looks before turning their eyes to Elizabeth.

One of them cleared his throat.

"We thought it would be nice to add some music and dancing," he said looking expectantly at both Jack and herself.

Jack smirked, like he knew what he was getting at, but wanted to let them sweat for a little longer.

"I see no problem with that," he said not giving anything away.

The pirates glanced at each other again.

"It would be… very nice if you decided to join us," the unfortunate temporary leader finished clumsily.

"It would be an honour," his mate piped in.

Jack raised his eyebrows.

"What do you think, luv?" he asked, catching Elizabeth completely off guard.

She thought that her surprise showed, because Jack looked like he was holding back a laugh.

"I suppose… why not?" she replied, not really knowing what else to say.

The trio of scallywags beamed at her.

"Well, what are ye waiting for? Go get it!" Jack scolded. "The _dancing_ part was directed at you, you know," he said to Elizabeth, watching them scurry away. "They're going to ask you to dance."

"And which one of them was asking me, exactly?" she asked amused.

Jack simply shot her a look.

"Ye can't blame them. You're the prettiest girl they have and most likely ever will see. If ye dance with them, they're going to remember that for the rest of their lives."

 _What about you, Jack_ , she suddenly found herself wanting to know. _Have you seen many girls prettier than me?_

"What did you send them for?" she asked instead.

"My guitar."

Her head turned so quick that she was surprised it did not make an audible snap. She stared at him.

"Your guitar?!"

"Yep."

He looked down. If she did not know him, she would have said that he looked like he suddenly got the slightest bit of shy.

"I didn't know you played," she said watching him curiously.

He shrugged.

"t's because I don't. Well, rarely ever."

"You don't like it?"

He shook his head.

"I love it," he finally looked at her. "And I hate it."

"Why?"

"It reminds me of my father."

 _Oh._ This was quite possibly the most personal thing she had ever learned about Jack. She suddenly realised that she knew very little about him.

"Is he… alive?" she asked carefully.

"Oh yes."

She was not sure if she should ask any more questions, but she did anyway:

"Is he the one who taught you play?"

Jack scoffed.

"No. I taught myself. But I probably got it from him, anyway. The man can be barely ever seen without his guitar," he paused for a moment. "I think when he caught me playing it might have been the first time he truly believed I was his," he added thoughtfully.

Elizabeth felt as if someone hit her square in the chest. It took for her to repeat his words in her head a few times to comprehend the meaning of what he had just said. The irony was not lost on her, when her own musings from a few minutes ago came back to her, as there was now only one question ringing in her head: how could anyone _not_ want him?

"I can't really play any musical instrument," she offered, after she managed to make her suddenly dry throat work. "They tried to teach me playing piano, but I was never any good at it, so they gave up after a while."

Jack smiled and she silently sighed with relief that her decision to drop the topic seemed to be a good one.

"You can sing, though," he said, with a teasing tone in his voice.

She furrowed her eyebrows at his remark, but then she remembered what he was getting at and chuckled.

"I still remember that song, you know," he added.

"Oh, hush."

There was warmth in his eyes that she did not expect and that she found herself completely defenceless against. She was getting lost in his gaze again, but she was saved by the return of the pirates with the guitar. Jack exchanged the empty bowls and cups for the instrument. Elizabeth watched him run his fingers over the wooden curves before he settled to play. She did not know about any other times, but at the moment he looked like he was enamoured with the guitar. She guessed it was one of the days when he loved to play.

The pirates were still standing nearby, shooting her disarmingly shy looks and she realised that if Jack was to play, he would not be able to dance.

She hesitated for a second, but then made up her mind: she needed to get away from Jack for a moment and this was a perfect opportunity – though it did surprise her that he was letting her out of his grasp so easily. Granted, she was not going too far away… and he most certainly knew that none of the men present could be considered any kind of competition for him. Whatever the reason, clearly he felt it was her call to make.

"Play one for me, will you?" she said getting up.

"They're all going to be for you," he replied smartly.

Oh, the sly fox…

"No. Play some for yourself, too," she said giving his shoulder a squeeze in a gesture that would seem too intimate just a few short hours ago.

His answering smile only succeeded in reminding her how close to sliding down the slippery slope she was.

She was enthusiastically welcomed among the crew. She should have probably predicted that giving her permission to dance with one of them would start a chain reaction and that she was going to get more than she had bargained for. She was the only woman on board, so of course they all wanted to dance with her. The sea songs flew like a jolly stream spiked with rum. She rarely glanced Jack's way, but she could hear him, which made taking her mind off him rather difficult, especially since she found that she really liked both the sight and the sound of him playing.

The pirates behaved surprisingly well-mannered toward her and she did not have to slap or scold anyone for taking any unwanted liberties with her under the excuse of dancing. She was not sure if it was out of respect for her, or fear of Jack's temper, but they all seemed rather gobsmacked by her appearance and tried to act gentlemanly, which sometimes made for hilariously clumsy results.

She did not notice the exact moment when the sound of guitar quieted, leaving only the voices to carry on the tune, but sure enough, at last she heard the familiar voice:  
"Sorry, mate. I'm cutting in," and then she switched the dance partner.

Jack's scent drifted to her before she even had a chance to take a look at him. It crossed her mind that perhaps making him wash had not been such a smart idea, after all. Now, she could no longer rely on his unkept state to work as a sufficient repellent to keep her distance. She would gladly burrow her nose in the crook between his neck and collarbone. How would his skin taste like if she kissed him there?

"So you did bathe," she blurted and then bit her lip to stop herself from saying anything else.

Jack's eyes twinkled.

"Do ye like?"

She inhaled deeply the Jack-scented air. Well, if she had a chance to make a positive difference in his habits, she could not let it go to waste, could she?

"I do. Do you know what else I like?"

"I sure hope you'll tell me."

"The music. You should play more often. It suits you."

It really did.

"Maybe I will."

He drew her much closer than any of the other pirates dared to, but it did not make her feel uncomfortable. It was not every day one danced with Captain Jack Sparrow. He twirled them rather haphazardly and she shrieked with surprised laughter.

"Jack, what are you doing?"

He grinned. It was not any dance-pattern she knew. He followed the rhythm, but not the steps. She suspected he was making them up as he went. Impressively, he did not trip, bump into anything or step on her feet once.

"Hold on," he said.

And she did – or more precisely, she held onto him. It did not take her long to realise that in order to make this work she had to stop overthinking it by counting steps or trying to crack the logic behind his movements and just tune in and follow his lead for once. Jack might be wobbly on land, but once you put him on a ship, his balance was so impeccable that he could probably walk a yardarm during a storm. He would not let her fall.

Soon, she was out of breath from exercise and laughter. She was sweaty, her hair was messy and her face was probably flushed a tomato red, and yet, Jack was looking at her as if she was the most interesting thing in the world.

He picked at the strand of her hair.

"It's lighter than it used to be," he mused.

He was right. She was spending so much time outdoors now, that her hair was bleached from the sun. For some reason, it flattered her that he noticed.

"Do you like?" she shot back using his own words.

Jack's eyes lit up in delight.

What the hell was she doing? _Was she flirting?!_ As if Jack needed any more encouragement.

"It's _golden_ ," he replied. " _Of course_ I like it."

He tucked the lock behind her ear, but he did not stop there, instead running his fingers through her hair repeatedly. His thumb stroked her brow and his fingertips traced her earlobe. Elizabeth's breath caught. This was another dance entirely. He was watching her closely and she knew that this time he could read her like a book. She stopped breathing entirely when he leaned down and pressed small kisses to where her his fingers had just touched her. She tensed like a skittish deer, torn between two impulses: to jerk away or to let her head loll to the side.

"Easy, love," Jack whispered into her ear, his breath tickling her skin. "'t's just me. You're safe."

His hand on her back was rubbing her spine soothingly and she slowly relaxed. She sighed and let her eyelids droop when he kissed her neck. What was it about Jack's kisses that was so different? Like he could simultaneously set her on fire and make her bones melt with just a brush of his lips? Was it only because they were forbidden? Or was the reason something else entirely?

It felt so ridiculously good that she had hard time believing it. And yet, her insatiable curiosity had already been stirred and now she was itching to know more. He had awoken something in her, that once uncovered, could no longer be ignored – something dangerous, but thrilling. He was more intoxicating than rum.

She opened her eyes a crack and looked over Jack's shoulder. She realised something, even through the warm haze of desire.

"Jack," she whispered tilting her head. "Everyone can see."

It was already getting dark, but not enough to hide them from the view. They were very much out in the open.

"Look around, darlin'. You won't shock anyone here."

He had a point. She supposed the company she was keeping was a little bit more lenient where it came to propriety standards and this _was_ a wedding.

Jack hit a tender spot on her neck and she squirmed in his arms. He was drawing a map of her body anew. She had had no idea that there had been a direct link between her jugular and the nether regions of her anatomy, and yet, when he nibbled at the path of skin covering the vein, she felt an answering pull much lower than she would expect. Though his hands did not really wander too much, staying mostly on her back and near her face, they were not prone to stay in one place for long, instead constantly making all these small movements – a brush here, a caress there – that were driving her crazy. Even when he took her hand – a seemingly innocent action – there was something in a way he played with her fingers that made her want to squeeze her thighs together. Perhaps that was what the corsets and gloves were about – the layers of fabric made one much less sensitive.

A wicked thought occurred to her: did it work both ways? She experimentally moved her hand from his shoulder to the back of his head under the thick coat of dreadlocks and lightly scratched the skin at the base of his skull. Jack made a low sound that strangely resembled a purr.

She noticed Jack glancing down and blushed hotly when she realised that the thin silk did not do much to hide the outline of her breasts, now complete with the two nubs marking her pebbled nipples.

"On a second thought..." he said, and there was that huskiness in his voice again. His arm around her, already wound quite snug, wrapped itself even tighter, pressing her flush against his body. She held back the urge to rub herself against him. "Maybe ye're right. They should not get to stare at everything."

"Jealous?" she managed to tease, though that was just sheer bravado at that point.

Jack smiled slyly.

"Sweetheart, every single one of them wishes to be me right now."

Elizabeth looked up at him from under her lashes.

They danced silently to the end of the song, sweet tension hanging in the air. She was not even surprised when Jack laced his fingers with hers when the last notes sounded and made a smooth turn toward the entrance leading to the living quarters without a word, pulling her along. She could hear someone laughing and some voices talking, probably commenting on their swift escape, but she did not comprehend what they were saying; just tuning it out as a meaningless noise.

It was darker inside, and she startled when Jack suddenly swept her off her feet.

"Jack!" she gasped.

"Trust me, I know my way around this ship in the dark."

She heard the door creak when he opened it. She looked around. The room was lighter than the corridor, thanks to the big windows, but the sky outside had already turned deep blue that would soon darken into black.

Jack carried her to the side cabin in the back, which served most obviously as the place where he slept rather than the representational main cabin, and put her on top of the bed.

She took a big gulp of breath when he straightened up and went back to close the door to the captain's quarters, which was left ajar behind them. She watched him through the doorway. He paused to lit a lamp in the main cabin. Her heart rate spiked when she saw Jack removing his cutlass, pistol and the compass and then placing the effects on top of a chair. He turned away from her and walked to the door.

Her hands fisted in the bedding when she heard the lock click in place. A tremor run down her spine, and she was not quite sure if it was out of excitement, or fear. For the first time, she felt rather uncertain and uncomfortably vulnerable. Everything was happening fast and she was getting overwhelmed again.

Did she want him to stop? Would he? In the eyes of the law, she was already his.

Suddenly, he sighed loudly, drawing her focus sharply back to him. He still had his back to her, so she could not see his face, but his shoulders sagged.

"Don't worry, 'Lizbeth," he said, as if reading her thoughts. He sounded calm, but weary. "I won't do to you anything you don't want me to."

He turned around slowly. She simply stared at him questioningly. Their eyes met, a distance of a room between them. He smiled faintly, but it was a sad smile. He looked resigned.

"You have nothing to fear from me, darlin'."

"I'm not afraid of you," she responded automatically.

He took off his hat and slowly walked back to her with the lamp. When he was so close that she had to raise her chin to look at him, he hanged the lamp on the hook that was placed on the ceiling probably for that exact reason, dimmed it slightly adjusting the knot, and then surprised her by kneeling in front of her on the floor.

"I know I tricked you," he said, looking up at her. "And I'm not going to pretend that I'm sorry about that, but, Lizzie…" She held back a shiver when he put his hands on her knees. "Ye have to know that I would never force you to... go through with this. I'm not… I don't do that. I won't lay a finger on ye unless that's what ye wish."

Elizabeth tilted her head. This was… an unexpected turn of events. She did not predict a scenario where he would stop to talk to her. Not that she was completely sure that she would have protested if he had not.

"And if I don't?" she wanted to clarify.

Jack shrugged.

"Then I guess I'll just go to sleep alone."

She looked down at him – really looked at him.

The trickster was gone. Suddenly, there was no game and no mask. There was just Jack, on his knees before her, and he was looking at her in all seriousness.

It took her a moment for his words to truly sink in.

A powerful mix of feelings flooded her: crashing relief, confusion, embarrassment and, interestingly enough, disappointment.

Almost immediately, shame filled her. What was she thinking? This was _Jack_. Of course he would not… How could she even think that he could… Not that she let her imagination run so far as to actually imagine him doing anything if she voiced her reluctance, but the very idea that he might not care…

His assurance from earlier that evening about her being safe came back to her.

 _Damn you, Jack_ , she thought. He was both much more perceptive and thoughtful than he let on.

"Even though I've already said 'yes'?" she inquired curiously, though no longer nervously.

Most men would have taken things for granted after marrying a woman. You gave your consent once and for all when you became a wife. But Jack Sparrow was not like most men. And – she was beginning to understand – it might be a good thing.

Jack shook his head.

"That's not how this works. You're not a slave. And I don't believe in _that_ concept anyway."

"No. You wouldn't," she whispered looking at him fascinated, with growing fondness in her heart.

It made sense. Jack might be a thief, but he believed in freedom above all things, so of course he would not agree with the idea of one human being allowed to own another.

Suddenly, something occurred to her: if she did not lay with him, the marriage would be invalid. Her intuition was telling her that Jack was aware of that, too.

He just gave her her choice back. And somehow, it made all the difference.

She raised a shaky hand to his face and cupped his cheek. His eyelids fluttered and he leaned into her touch.

"You're a good man, Jack."

A corner of his mouth curled up.

"All evidence on the contrary, love."

She shook her head. For some reason, her throat tightened. There was something heartbreaking about Jack, she realised.

"No," she said. "No, I don't believe that."

"Even knowing what an unapologetic, incorrigible criminal I am?" he teased.

"It's not about what we are. It's about who we are."

Jack's smirk dropped, as if he wiped it off, and she saw him swallow.

"Lizzie..."

His mouth twitched and he leaned forward, but stopped himself before he could reach his target. She knew that he wanted to kiss her, but he held back. It was her turn to make a choice.

There it was, the chance she had been seeking all evening. All she had to do was say 'no'. She believed him when he said that he would let her go. Only now, when she knew that she could, it no longer felt like something she wanted.

Perhaps it was the rum. Perhaps it was her naivety, or that blasted curiosity of hers. A selfish impulse? Or maybe it was just Jack with those unfairly beautiful, dark, soulful eyes. But in that moment, she decided that she had to know: if she was to turn her back on this path and resign her fate to living the rest of her life without this fire, she at least needed to understand what it was that she would be giving up.

It was not fair – not to Will, anyway. But the not-so-dormant, rebellious part of her was telling her that what happened next was supposed to be about _her:_ her desires and her wishes.

She needed to know what it tasted like.

And so, Elizabeth closed the gap and pressed her mouth against Jack's.

* * *

In case you've never seen this picture :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? Do you still like it?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. A short one for now, but there will be more and soon, so don't yell at me for being a tease :). I just needed to split it between them, because I wanted us to get both points of view, so I'm posting it seperately.  
> Jack goes first.

She kissed him. It did not last long, just a sweet, lingering peck, but it was the first time _she_ kissed _him._ He stayed still for a moment, just savouring the feeling. He did not quite understand why he wanted her so much, but he did. Then he kissed her back, a soft and short one, and then another one, a little longer, every kiss a question.

_Careful_ , he warned himself. _Not too fast._

He did not want to scare her. She could still change her mind, if she had even made it up already.

Suddenly, he felt something tug at his chin.

"Oi!"

He leaned back to find that it was Elizabeth playing with one of the braids in his beard. She looked up at him, a guilty expression on her face.

"I've always wanted to do that," she confessed.

"Is that so?" he asked.

She nodded. He narrowed his eyes at her before darting his hand to her ribs. She twitched reflexively.

_Ah_. She was ticklish. He grinned at her and her eyes widened.

"No," she said scooting back, but his grin only widened. "No, Jack, don't you dare to even think of th-"

But it was too late. He tackled her to the mattress and tickled her sides mercilessly. She squirmed and laughed – a full belly laugh he had never heard from her before.

"Jack! S-stop. You're evil!"

"And here I thought I was a good man."

"Not if you keep this up! Stop this right now!"

Of course, her wriggling on his bed was far too distracting for him to continue that game for too long before it turned into something less innocent, even if he wanted to. She was so alluring and so different from the pale, corset-bound girl he had once dragged out from the bottom of the sea – now she was all rosy cheeks, shiny eyes and laughter.

_Well, aren't_ _ **you**_ _a hero for saving her from that awful life of luxury by taking her to your bed_ , a sarcastic voice in his head acknowledged, but he told it to shut it. He liked this Lizzie better than the haughty Miss Swann, though the latter was not without a charm as well.

He nuzzled his face against her throat, relishing in the fact that he could do that. Her skin was just as soft and smooth as the silk she was wrapped in and he wanted to feel more of it. Gradually, his fingers uncurled and their motions changed, until he was running his open palms down her sides and stomach.

"Jack," she sighed and the sound went straight to his loins. He could listen to her saying his name in that tone all night, but it also made him want to kiss her again, and since there was nothing stopping him, he did just that, effectively silencing her with his mouth. It had been quite a while since he had last done that much kissing – the Tortuga wenches he tended to go to to quench his needs were not the kissing kind of girls. He did no want to think about that, though.

He loomed over her, acutely aware of every layer of clothing separating them. He wanted so much more, but he knew that rush would be his downfall. It was insane how quick his body was to get him ready for her when she had barely touched him yet. She swung her arm over his neck and that gave him enough confidence to press himself closer to her. He grunted and broke the kiss when he felt the butt of her pistol dig into his hip. He did not fancy to see himself shot by accident.

"Do ye mind if I take these away?" he issued an unexpectedly cultured request in reply to her inquiring look.

She looked confused as to what he was talking about for a second, but then her gaze darted to his hands resting on her belt and comprehension washed over her face.

"Of course," she whispered.

The muscles on her abdomen clenched when his fingers brushed against her lower stomach while he worked on the clasp. She sat up to make the process easier and he swiftly unwrapped the belt from around her waist and put her effects away.

"There," he said. "That's better."

She smiled at him nervously. He did not want her to be nervous, but that was probably inevitable. An idea occurred to him and he took her hands in his. He glanced at his ring sitting on her thumb. The sight evoked a pleasant little thrill in him. He kissed her hands and put them on his chest.

"It can work both ways, you know," he said, keeping his voice low. She looked at him searchingly. "Is there anything _else_ you've always wanted to do?"

She fingered the rim of his collar and one of his dreadlocks and then simply kissed him instead of answering. Or was that the answer?

He looped his arms around her and drew her closer once again. He tried to be patient, but he could not keep his hands off her. The kiss grew heated and they both got lost in it for a while, or at least he did, because he almost missed it when she faltered.

"Wait," she whispered. "Jack?"

It pained him, but he listened.

"Yes?" he asked holding back a sigh.

She was going to send him away. He was aware of the possibility, of course, but he had hoped it would at least take her little longer to do that.

_It had been too good to be true._

"I..." she hesitated.

"You can tell me," he soothed. He nearly stumbled on the next words: he was not good at this, but he needed her to trust him, and if truth be told, she had every reason not to. "I won't get angry. I meant what I said before."

"I know you did. Jack, I... I just… I don't want to lead you on. I'm not sure how far I can go."

He braced himself for a disappointment.

"Do you want me to leave?" he asked watching her closely.

"No! No, don't leave."

"Stop, then?"

She bit her lip before shaking her head slowly. It made his hope flare back in an instant.

"Then what do you want, love?"

"Oh, bloody hell, I don't know what I want, alright?" she suddenly erupted. "How can I? I've never done this before. I feel like I do want it now, but I don't really know what I'm asking for, do I? What if I realise that I'm wrong? Or that I've got enough?"

Despite her explanation not being particularly clear, he understood.

_Of course, ye bloody idiot_ , he scolded himself. Virgins were a rarity in his world.

"Then you'll tell me to stop," he said calmly, "and I'll stop."

She looked at him with those big, moist eyes, but he felt himself being sharply scrutinised despite their defenceless and innocent look. There was a hint of calculation in them that told him she was not just testing him to see what his answer would be. She was weighting in her options and the scales were almost even.

"Anytime?" she asked sensibly.

He grit his teeth inwardly, already feeling like he was setting himself up for misery, but what else could he do, really? He was willing to take that risk. At that point, he would take whatever he could get.

"Anytime," he confirmed as steadily as he could.

"Promise me?"

She had _no_ idea how much it costed him to say the words, but the fact that she was even willing to take his word on that was doing strange things to him. He cupped her face with his hands and looked her right in the eye.

"I promise, love."

The effect was miraculous: instantly, her whole body relaxed and he finally saw the last traces of anxiety drain from her face.

"I believe you," she said.

What he did not expect was for her legs to wrap around his waist immediately.

_Oh, well then_ , he thought. _That was quick._

He was in no way anywhere near protesting. He was exactly where he wanted to be. He run his hands over her silk-clad thighs thinking once again how much he appreciated that outfit. Who needed petticoats in the Caribbean heat, anyway? Personally, he thought it might just be men's revenge for the stockings.

That train of thought led him to remember Elizabeth's bare feet which in turn made it impossible not to think of her stockings-less legs and everything else that was hiding just beneath her skirt. All he would have to do was just hitch the fabric and then...

God help him, but he meant what he had said to her. He would not forgive himself if he failed her in that regard. But if Elizabeth thought she could just get herself a risk-free sample of Jack Sparrow, she was gravely wrong. Jack was a master manipulator. A seducer. His speciality was not to force people into doing things, but to make them do whatever he wanted from them out of their own volition without them even realising they were doing his bidding.

She startled a little when he repositioned them so that he was sitting on the bed and she was straddling his lap, but then settled down. He flashed a gold-adorned grin at his beautiful, beautiful bride and took her in his arms. He would take good care of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, he'll be back later.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the follow-up:

**EPOV**

He was gentle. Not that she had expected him to be brutal, but… she was not sure what she had been expecting, to be honest. _This_ was surpassing her scope of expectations so greatly, that she should probably not even try to predict anything with her limited-close-to-non-existant experience. Nevertheless, she did find herself surprised by him – his touch, his words, his… kindness – but in a good way.

His promise placated her. Strangely, it also seemed to have the power to alleviate some of her guilt. If she could choose to stop this any moment, it almost felt like she had not made the damning choice yet. And that made it easier to enjoy Jack.

It seemed that for the time being he decided to make the kisses his weapon of choice. Apparently, he was set on a mission to taste every inch of her skin that was above the neckline, starting with her face and moving downwards. The closer he got to her cleavage, the quicker her breathing became, which made for an interesting effect when her heaving chest seemed to be his exact destination. Will had never had the nerve to put his mouth anywhere so improper. Come to think of that, his kisses had not been very diversified. It was baffling that Jack was capable to get closer to her in a matter of days than Will had ever managed in the course of their decade long acquaintance.

She looked down at Jack though heavy-lidded eyes and buried her fingers in the dark mass of his braids and dreadlocks. He slowed down and then pressed his lips to the centre of her chest. The beads in his beard slipped into the valley between her breasts and tickled her skin. They were cool to the touch. This was perhaps not the most erotic thing he had done so far, but it made her tighten the grip her legs had on his waist. His hips pushed back and she inhaled sharply. There was nothing she could compare the shot of heat that travelled up her spine in response to. Elizabeth had been told that this was often hurtful to a woman, but clearly, there was more than pain to the affair.

Jack looked up at her, his eyes narrowed in pleasure and glittering.

"Lizzie-love," he almost cooed and his voice made her shiver.

His hands clasped on her hips, keeping him pressed against her. They were both fully clothed, which was perhaps the only thing that allowed her to stay fairly calm, but there was no mistaking what their bodies wanted.

_So far. They were both clothed so far. For how long, though?_

She dared to look down her body to where it melded with his and felt surprisingly irritated when she realised that she was not able to see much. When she looked back up, he was wearing a smirk. She scowled at him and he laughed. It made for an interesting sensation to feel his belly shake with him holding her so closely. This was yet another thing she had not expected: that a wedding night could involve so much laughing.

"No reason to pout, my sweet," he said smoothing her hair back. "You can look all you want."

He rolled his hips very slowly, making her gasp, and went once more for her mouth, this time kissing her very thoroughly. This was dangerous, she could tell, but in a thrilling way. There was a sense of feminine pride in pulling him so deeply under her spell, in making him want her so strongly and so obviously – she might not be able to see it, but she could certainly feel that she had him all hot and bothered. His pelvis rocked against hers in such a small way that she was not even sure if he was doing that consciously.

She was curious to explore him too, just like he had encouraged her to, but she found that his clothes were getting in a way. He was already sans his coat and belts, but that still left him overdressed compared to her. Her hands wandered to the front of his vest and she popped the first button open.

"I want to feel your skin," she explained when she saw him cock his eyebrow at her. She would have probably blushed if she was not flushed for other reasons already.

"'m certainly not going to stop you," he whispered.

He rubbed his hands up and down her sides and settled on kissing her shoulder while she worked on the rest of the buttons. She had to untie his sash as well, since it was wrapped over his clothing, and her hands shook slightly. Of course, Jack used that time to do some exploration of his own.

"Jack!" she hissed when his fingers brushed the underside of her breasts. She was not sure if she meant it as protest, or just surprise.

"What?" he asked looking at her far too innocently. "Ye don't like it?"

She _did_ like it, _far too much_ , and he knew that very well. In fact, she liked it enough not to stop him when one of his hands inched higher to cup her breast in a clear challenge, which annoyingly felt even better. She narrowed her eyes at him and considered denying it just to spite him, but thought better of it.

"Take it off," she huffed instead.

"Yer wish is my command."

There was that laughter again, this time only in his eyes. Suddenly, she realised that she would not have it any other way.

He shrugged off his vest and tossed it aside, but that was not enough.

"I said: your skin," she tossed sternly, pretending to be cross with him. She knew he was not buying it, but neither did she really want him to.

He made a bit of a show out of taking off his shirt, the scoundrel. He spread his arms in theatrical gesture. She held back a giggle. It was easy to be comfortable with Jack.

" _Jack_ ," she faked exasperation.

"I thought you said you wanted to see me," he said coyly.

" _No_. I said I wanted to _feel_ you."

He leered at her and this time she _did_ blush.

"Well, what are ye waiting for?"

But she _did_ look at him. It was impossible not to. He was a sight to behold. His body spoke of a life lived to the fullest; filled with adventures and danger, too. He was fit: not overly bulky, but there did not seem to be an ounce of extra fat on his bones. Not that that surprised her with all the times she had seem him running, jumping, or fighting without pausing for catching a breath. She did not doubt his strength: he was lean and wiry, but muscular, with the kind of muscles that came from the hard labour rather than from working out. His skin was bronzed from the sun, making him look like a statue, but it was marked with the… oh God, _so many_ scars. Not that it took away from his beauty – but when she thought of how he got them…

She traced one of them with her fingers, as delicately as she could. She had seen glimpses of them on the island, but not like this, and she certainly never had had the opportunity to touch them.

"Will you tell me the stories?" she asked.

"I will," he said. "One day."

That was enough for the time being. She leaned forward and kissed the scar.

"'Lizbeth..." he whispered.

She discovered that she really liked it when he said her name. Her former insistence on formalities seemed so laughable now… Well, it had been always mostly just a way to bring him down a peg, to be honest.

She run her hands all over him, overpowered by curiosity. She had a feeling there was nothing average about Jack and she was itching to take full advantage of the opportunity to explore him. She started with fulfilling her earlier fantasy and burying her face in the crook of his neck. She rubbed her nose against the soft tissue of the vulnerable spot feeling very much like it was something an animal would do. But it was all driven by instinct, was it not? She suddenly saw how absurd all these powdered men and women were, talking stiffly in their parlours and ballrooms, with their firm belief that they belonged to some separate, superior world, when all it took to shatter their grandeur was to strip them off their corsets and wigs. It really seemed like a circus when she thought of it. Their getups and mannerism were far more ridiculous than anything she had done so far.

Jack was clearly not ashamed of himself.

 _Good_ , she thought. She would not want him to be. He was too much of a free spirit for that.

His arms were no longer outstretched, but wrapped around her and doing all kinds of marvellous things. She sighed. It already felt so much better with the closer contact.

She kissed the skin under her lips and then, feeling brave, darted her tongue to really taste it. Jack shivered and that sent a thrill through her as well.

"Oh, ye're a minx," he sounded half-surprised, half-delighted.

"Did you like it?" she asked, perhaps a little coy.

"Can't you tell?" he teased back.

She licked her lips. She would not mind getting another taste.

His fingers raked through her hair and massaged the scalp at the back of her head while he bent his neck and nibbled at her earlobe. She closed her eyes and made a small sound she did not care to describe and pressed herself against him reflexively.

"Thought so," she heard him whisper and it crossed her mind that he had just found her soft spot.

She did not care. She wanted more. More of this. More of him. Just _more_.

She leaned forward, chasing him when he slowly leaned back, his arms still holding her close, until his back hit the mattress. She opened her eyes and looked at him, to find that he was now splayed on his back on the bed, with her straddling his waist. It made her want to rub herself all over him, because now, with gravity at works, her own weight was pressing her down on him, which – with her knees on both sides of him – meant that there was not even a shred of space left between them. True enough, her skirt covered everything, but that did not change the fact that her legs were spread to accommodate him, which left her rather... well, open.

This was new, but it also gave her even more control over what was happening, so it did not scare her. She knew that Jack was much more experienced in this game and that he was probably choosing his moves deliberately, but she was grateful for the slow pace.

"Who would have thought that you could be such a patient man?" she mused out loud.

"Don't mistake patience with persistence," he warned, but she only smiled.

The more time passed, the more at ease she felt with him. Besides, her own virtue of patience seemed rather questionable at the moment. However, there was something empowering about having him at her mercy, so she found it in herself to give him a swift kiss and sit up. Now, she could really take a good look at him from her vantage point of view. It was almost unfair how beautiful he was.

"Do your worst," he murmured, running his hands up her thighs. "'m all yours, love."

"Are you, now?" she asked, and she sensed that there was some deeper, perhaps unintentional, meaning lurking beneath the surface.

He raised his eyebrows.

"I just married you, didn't I?"

"So it would seem," she said drawing patterns on his chest with her fingertips.

Her thumb brushed against his nipple and he hissed. She paused and tilted her head.

"What did I just do?" she asked, before she could stop herself.

Instead of answering, he simply mimicked her action. Her breath caught.

"Or more like this..." he said, slipping his hand under her top and repeating the motion against bare flesh.

This time, she did not even bother to pretend that she had any objections. It just felt too good to risk interrupting it. It did not seem that he was planning on that, though. His hand kept moving, caressing her breast. She squirmed a little and bit her lip. A lazy smile spread on Jack's face. Oh, but he was a handsome devil. It was a tempting thought to imagine that he could be hers. The desire, this reckless and wild thing, was shimmering under her skin and singing in her veins, and she had never heard its call so clearly before. His touch had the power to make her melt inside, quite literally, as it seemed that it was pooling in liquid form between her legs. So when he raised his other hand, she simply grabbed it and boldly held it to her chest as well. He obeyed readily, visibly engrossed in his task. She basked in the feeling, the pleasurable warmth spreading through her. He gradually pushed the fabric up, until it was no longer obscuring his view.

She hesitated only for a moment before deciding that he could already see everything there was to see with the way her top was hitched and throwing the caution to the wind along with the garment. She pulled the blouse off in one fluid motion and let it drop without looking where it landed. She shook her head to get the hair out of her eyes. She held back a small tremor and fought the urge to cover herself when his hands fell away, instead keeping her spine straight, her pride taking over. She looked down at Jack with a challenge, only to see that there would be no battle to fight. Jack looked quite bewitched, his eyes hungrily licking every inch of her skin as if he was cataloguing it. She found that watching his face was even better than looking at her reflection in his mirror.

Jack propped himself up on his elbows and leaned in, like he was about to tell her a secret.

"Do you have _any_ idea how beautiful you are?" he asked and her heart skipped a beat.

She wanted him to say more, but all of sudden his mouth was on her breast and all she could get out was a strangled: "Jack…!"

"c'm here, sweetheart," he mumbled.

She let herself be pulled down on top of him. Passion was clouding her judgement and she could not think past what he was making her feel; his body against hers, his lips, tongue and hands on her, his fingers sneaking under her skirt and rubbing her thighs, up and down, and up again, like the sea lapping at the shore during a high tide, reaching a little farther into the land with each coming wave.

He rolled them over, switching their positions for easier access, and her hand flew to his lower back, making sure that he was still wearing his breaches. He was… but her hand kind of... strayed… lower.

 _I'm really too curious for my own good_ , she thought, feeling the curve under her palm.

He growled and his hand under her skirt moved, now mapping the inside of her thigh rather than the outside. His touch was light, teasing. It felt foreign, and yet so arousing that she shivered. Jack obviously knew what he was doing.

"I'm going to touch ye now," he whispered into her ear, but her mind was so addled she did not immediately understand what he meant.

This was the moment when she was supposed to stop him… that is, if that moment had not passed already. But it seemed that she was so close to finding what she was seeking, closer than ever before, and it would be so disappointing and frustrating to stop now… she did not like to feel disappointed. Besides, was this really so much different from what she had already done by letting him touch her pretty much everywhere else and see her half-naked? Which lines were still ahead of her, and which were already crossed?

"Let me show you," he coaxed.

She turned her head and her eyes found his.

"Show me what?" she asked.

"How it can feel."

 _This isn't irreversible_ , the voice in her head tempted.

She closed her eyes. She felt drunk on him and on experiencing these forbidden sensations for the very first time. The thing was, though, she had never been very good at respecting the rules.

"Only if it's good," she voiced her surrender, adding one last touch of sass.

"You'll be the judge of that," she heard a smile in his voice.

And then he touched her where no man had ever touched her before, and good gracious, he had every reason to be smug. She made a sound between a sigh and a whimper and shuddered, but to her surprise, she heard him groan as well.

"Ye want me, darlin', don't ye?" he whispered.

"And why did you think I was here?" she snapped annoyed at him for pointing out her weakness.

He laughed breathlessly.

"No need to get angry, Lizzie," he soothed already working on placating her with gentle fingers. "I want ye too. So much."

She probably had no right to talk, since hearing that declaration brought her unexpected amount of satisfaction.

He captured her mouth in a languid kiss and she got lost again. His touch burned her, but she could not help but want more. It was a sweet torture, and somehow he knew exactly what to do to drive her crazy with just a brush of his thumb.

How was it possible? How could he know her body better than she did?

"Relax, Lizzie," he murmured. "This won't hurt, I promise."

So she did. And he was right, it did not, even when his probing became more invasive. It was the opposite of pain. She flexed her hips experimentally and a new shot of heat was her reward. She wondered if he would find her actions wanton – she knew that showing eagerness was not expected from women unless they were the ladies of ill-repute, but it did not agree with her temperament to simply lay motionlessly. But no, not Jack.

"Yes, love," he praised. "That's right. Just like this."

She clutched his shoulders, needing to hold a piece of him in return. She could feel his breath on her skin, hot and heavy. She felt as if there was a flame within her, tickling her from the inside out and only Jack could stoke it.

"Look at me," he said and she was not sure if it was a plea or a command.

She opened her eyes a crack, her lids too heavy to work properly, and obeyed. It was the most curious sensation – the sharp spike of arousal that came not from any kind of physical action, but a simple eye-contact. His gaze did not waver and the intimacy of that was threatening to overwhelm her again.

And then she knew: she was not going to stop him. She had travelled far enough down the tunnel so that moving forward seemed like the only way out.

Of course, led by some kind of primal intuition, he chose the next moment to stall.

"J-jack?" she was too confused to say anything else.

"Shhhh… Just a second," he reassured.

She glanced to see that he was up to and saw that he was working on the fastenings of her skirt. Just a few minutes ago, the prospect of shredding the last piece of clothing would have made her anxious, but now she cared more about the interruption than embarrassment. He peeled the fabric off her and paused to get rid of his boots, which had somehow managed to stay on his feet up to that point, hanging over the edge of the mattress – and then she realised that she was naked, in Jack Sparrow's bed, a happenstance she would have dubbed completely inconceivable when she had woken up that morning. She felt a little self-conscious, after all, so she curled her legs in a way that left her a little less exposed than before and she glanced at the lamp, but Jack shook his head.

"I can turn it off, but you have nothing to be ashamed of," he said, crawling back onto the bed. "Don't ever let anyone make you feel like ye do."

He stretched next to her and leaned in to kiss her cheek. It was such a sweet, affectionate gesture that she had hard time clinging to her insecurities. Once he was near again, it did not seem to matter. Funny, as she would have thought that his closeness would have the opposite of the calming effect on her.

She pulled him for a kiss. Whatever happened, she knew for a fact: she was not going to forget that night, ever. She accepted his touch when he put his hands back on her without breaking a kiss. Soon, she was right back where she had been when they had paused before.

Disjoined pieces of thought flashed through her mind: she had been lied to. Everything she had been told about women, men, love, marriage bed… so wrong. So right. So good…

She broke away for air. He kissed a path down her neck and to her bare breasts. She squeezed her eyes shut when his mouth closed around her nipple. It was almost too much to bear.

"I didn't know," she gasped nonsensically.

"Ye still don't," he whispered into her skin. "But ye will."

"Promise?"

He groaned.

"Yes. I promise."

One of her last rational thoughts was a razor-sharp realisation: she had miscalculated. This _was_ irreversible. Not because of any physical changes it would cause, but because one could not unsee certain things, like the light that was already threatening to spill through her squeezed eyelids – and yet, stopping him was the last thing on her mind.

"Jack," she gasped.

"Right here, love. Don't worry, I'll catch ye," she heard him whisper. "Let go. Ye're free."

And then she was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure about the rating of this story. If you feel like I should change it, please let me know.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooookay. I'm really sorry for leaving you without an update for so long. If you feel bad, think about poor Jack who had been left hanging in an even worse position. I don't really have an excuse other than the fact that I was busy between my numerous part-time jobs and kind of checked out from FF for a while, to the point where I didn't even respond to your messages - I'll try to get back to you now.
> 
> But the good news is that I had a few free days and finally got back to writing. Here is a super-long chapter for you to make up for Jack's absense, so I hope it would cheer you up. Also, you might want to know that it contains mature themes, so if that offends you, you should probably skip it. In a few words, it's about the wedding night, so you get the idea. I'd appreciate it if you let me know how you feel about it, too, so I know if you'd like more of it. I consider writing erotica difficult because I think it's a thin line between being too vague (and losing Jack's egde by being too mushy) and too descriptive (and risking getting vulgar). I'd be grateful for feedback.

_Previously:_

_One of her last rational thoughts was a razor-sharp realisation: she had miscalculated. This was irreversible. Not because of any physical changes it would cause, but because one could not unsee certain things, like the light that was already threatening to spill through her squeezed eyelids – and yet, stopping him was the last thing on her mind._

_"Jack," she gasped._

_"Right here, love. Don't worry, I'll catch ye," she heard him whisper. "Let go. Ye're free."_

_And then she was._

* * *

**JPOV**

She was quite possibly the most beautiful thing he had ever laid his eyes on. He stretched next to her and feasted his eyes on the sight before him. He was a lucky, lucky bastard. She seemed to glow, with her body glistening with fresh sheen of sweat and her long hair spilled on the pillow in just the right way to lit with golden sparks from the lamplight. She was still wearing all the jewels, but was otherwise gloriously naked, which made her look like some kind of pagan deity, waiting to be worshipped. He could not have imagined a more perfect look on her, and  _he had been thinking about that_ , far too many times. Come to think of that, this could be quite possibly the best use he had done of the stolen treasures in a long time, too.

She was no longer shy, but rather carelessly sprawled on the bed, her chest raising and falling with her breath, her cheeks flushed and lips red from his kisses. It made him puff with pride, because she looked thoroughly ravished and completely satisfied with the outcome.

He absent-mindedly stuck his fingers into his mouth before sucking on them.

...hmmm, he could do  _that_  as well.

…there were so many things he wanted to do…

He inched a little closer yet, and caressed her side. She arched and rolled over, coming nose to nose with him. She opened her eyes a crack, her orbs glittering and still full of bliss. She flashed him a lazy, sensual smile and he knew he did good.

"Jack…" she sighed tangling her legs with his, before giving him a slow kiss.

She wanted a cuddle. He had nothing against naked cuddles.

"Feels nice, doesn't it?" he said stroking her spine. All right, so maybe he was fishing. Just a little.

"I'm not sure if  _nice_ is the word, but yes."

 _No guilt_ , he noted.  _At least not yet. Good._

"Is it always like this?" she asked dreamily.

"If it's not, kick the fellow out of your bed, immediately," he blurted, even though the very thought of someone else in her bed did not agree with him. He frowned. Why would he even think that?

But she only smiled again.

"Why, Mr Sparrow…"

"Captain," he corrected automatically.

"...I think you're being modest and that's a first." She reached to play with one of his beads again. "You see, I have a feeling that not every man would do what you just did."

"I'm not just anyone, am I? I'm..."

"…Captain Jack Sparrow. I know."

Her eyes were laughing, even if her voice was not. He was absolutely hooked.

Because it was not a mockery. There was humour, yes, but also warmth.

 _See? I told ye she liked us_ , his inner voice commented giddily.

She drew her brows together in a brief frown.

"I don't understand, though" she whispered.

"What?" he asked, his hands stilling their lazy ministrations.

She squirmed displeased.

"Don't stop," she scolded and he was compelled to kiss her again.

"Understand what?" he tried again after he broke away.

"If it's so easy… to make someone feel this good, then why…?"

 _Ah_.

"First, you have to want to make them feel good," he said, renewing the process of caressing her. "'m afraid men tend to be rather selfish and stupid creatures."

"Is it such a bother?"

"Of course not. But you have to give a damn. Or even get the idea."

 _Or believe that it matters,_  he thought but left it unspoken. The unfortunate opinion that  _it was different for women_ was quite popular.

"Are you not selfish, then?" Elizabeth asked sceptically, but with a touch of humour.

Jack grinned wide enough to flash gold.

"Oh, I am," he chuckled. "But I'm not stupid."

She smiled back at him.

"No," she said stroking his shoulders. "You certainly are not."

He was silly pleased, though he had yet to really get anything for himself out of this deal. Which was something he hoped would be soon addressed, because it was becoming quite uncomfortable, but thankfully she appeared to be aware of that as well, since she looked down his body and settled her right hand on his hip. He steeled himself not to grab her and just have his way with her.

"I've been selfish, haven't I?" she said stroking the skin above his waistband with her thumb, making him suck in his breath.

"Like a true pirate," he teased.

She kissed him again, a languid, slow kiss. He could not wait any longer. He took her hand and placed it on the bulge in his breaches.

_What? I've never claimed to be a saint._

She broke the kiss with a gasp and they stared at each other for a few seconds from close proximity. Then she licked her lips and spoke:

"Does it feel the same for you as it does for me when you touch me?" she asked softly.

In that moment, he blessed her inborn curiosity. She was startled, but not repelled.

"I imagine so," he replied. "Perhaps not quite the same, but probably similar."

She was a clever girl. He did not really have to tell her what to do. It was better to let her explore him in her own time, anyway, and his body was already grateful for finally getting some attention, though it was screaming for him to release it from its confines.

"Don't ye want to see?" he took a minor gamble.

She hesitated, but then tugged at the drawstrings and he hissed in relief as his erection sprang free.

Jack was not a particularly religious man, but if his dealings with the supernatural had taught him anything, it was that it was smarter to expect that there was  _some_ kind of greater power out there, rather than nothing, so he repeated the names of the known (and seemingly friendly) deities in his mind in thanks when Elizabeth's hand finally came in contact with his swollen flesh. She took her sweet time to examine him, with adorably serious look of concentration on her face.

"You're going to be the death of me," he said, a little breathlessly.

He saw a sparkle in her eye that told him that she enjoyed having him in the palm of her hand – quite literally. He did not mind giving up control for a little bit – it seemed mutually beneficial at the moment. Besides, he liked switching things from time to time. Repeating the same pattern over and over seemed so boring.

"Like this?" she asked taking hold of him.

He had been right about her. She  _was_ a sensual creature. Soon, she would learn what she liked and she would not be shy to take it.

"Yes," he breathed.

Jack wriggled farther out of his breaches and then kicked them off the rest of the way. He inhaled deeply. She smelled of youth and cleanness, covered with a recent layer of desire – like spiked honey – a perfect Lizzie-scent. She was a morsel he could not wait to devour and he licked his lips in anticipation.

He wrapped his hand around hers and adjusted her grip a little bit.

"Just like this," he said.

"Anywhere in particular?"

Oh, she was not as innocent as she looked.

"Here," he showed her, guiding her fingers.

"Here?"

"Lizzie..." he hissed.

He could not pretend that she was not affecting him, nor did he want to: he did not mean to teach her hiding her own responses. He let go of her hand and reached for her hips instead. He needed her close and he needed to keep touching her. He was  _not_  done with her.

He captured her mouth in a fiery kiss, his passion taking over. She was good at matching the rhythm of the kiss and reading the clues from his reactions. Perhaps she had good instincts, perhaps she was perceptive, or maybe they just fit together, but he could tell she was a quick study and he wanted her to study  _him_. It did not matter that she was inexperienced, because for the first time in what felt like ages, he cared who it was in his arms. She was the woman he wanted and that was enough to make  _everything_  feel good.

Jack's hands roamed freely, as no place was forbidden anymore. She was quite sensitive at the moment, which suited him just fine.

He hooked her leg over his thigh and felt her tremble.

 _Not yet_ , he reasoned with himself.

He needed her back in that mind-space where she would no longer question what she wanted. Fortunately, he knew just a way to achieve that.

So he leaned over Elizabeth's ear instead and released a long string of compliments peppered with an occasional profanity. Here, it finally felt right to tell her all the things that had been plaguing his thoughts for so long: how smart and pretty, and feisty she was, how she drove him crazy, but how he loved that she could surprise him, how much he enjoyed their banter and that she would never back down if she had something to say, how it kind of turned him on when she was angry, how long he had wanted to have her like this, how much he liked her smiles, rare as they were, that twinkle in her eye that she got when she was up to something and that pout she was wearing when she knew she lost an argument but did not want to admit it and…

Because the truth was, it worked both ways: if she was not just anybody, then neither was he. If it mattered that it was her with him, then it also mattered that she would choose to give him this night, that could only be lived once. Then  _he_ mattered.

Elizabeth pulled back to look at him.

"When did you even notice all of this?" she asked with genuine surprise.

"I notice everything," he gloated.

To be honest, his mind was so clouded with lust that he was not even sure what he had just said a moment ago.

She rubbed the tip of her nose against his, adding another thing he liked to his list, and she placed her free hand on his chest, open palmed. He let his eyes drift shut for a moment. Did she know what she was doing to him?

For all his fantasies, deep down, he had never believed that she would do this. Let him touch her, perhaps, yes, but to want to do this for him? And not to goad him or as some part of a hidden scheme, a mean to an end, but just to take care of him? He opened his eyes to look at her and caught her glancing down through her lashes, a wicked smirk curling the corner of her mouth. Did she like this?

His hips buckled, his body wanting more, but he was not sure if she was ready, so he covered her hands with his and stilled her actions.

"Ye need to stop for now, love," he said bringing her hands to his lips for a kiss.

"Why?" she asked looking up at him and he had to call all his self-control to stay cool when he was faced with the sight of her pout.

"Because I don't want this to end just yet," he explained.

It was a gamble, he knew. If he let her continue, he would get a release from her hands, while wanting too much could leave him with nothing. There was no telling if the next step would not prove to be too much for her. He was well aware of the finality of it. Nevertheless, he could not bear not to try. He was not one to play it safe and simply would not be able to stand the thought of letting this chance slip through his fingers.

He rolled them over until he was on top, hovering over her. He did it as gently and slowly as he could, because he desperately did not want her to bolt. He was  _so close._

 _Keep talking_ , his inner self advised him and this time he fully agreed.

"Unlike you, I have only one shot at this. Generally speaking," he said with a half-smile.

He watched curiosity taking over uncertainty when she looked up at him.

_Sooo pretty..._

"Generally speaking?" she inquired. "You mean, you could… Right away?"

His smile widened. Of course she would want to know. And of course she would want to know more than she would be embarrassed to ask. He really like the way her mind worked.

"Well, maybe not  _right away_. But it's not impossible."

He waited a beat for the next question. She did not disappoint:

"Unlike me?"

"Yesssss."

He sneaked his hand down her body and back between her legs, reaching blindly for that secret spot that held the key to a woman's pleasure. He longed for the warmth and slickness he could feel on his fingers.  _Soon_  – he told himself, hoping he was not telling a lie. Elizabeth arched into his touch with a breathy sigh.

"Works like a charm, doesn't it?" he murmured.

He rubbed her delicate flesh in lazy circles until she relaxed completely again. She looped her arms over his neck in acceptance.

"Only when you do this," she said.

"Oh?"

He felt an unfamiliar prickle in his gut. Jack was not a jealous man by nature. The only thing he was truly possessive of was his ship.

"I mean..." she averted her eyes. "I might have… They told me that I shouldn't do this, so I wanted to know what the fuss was about."

 _Oh_.

He laughed inwardly when he retraced the logic process behind her last sentence. Peas in a pod, indeed.

"Bollocks," he snorted. "Never understood that one. If it doesn't harm you or anyone else, then what's the problem?"

She shrugged awkwardly.

"It didn't really work for me, anyway. It certainly didn't feel like what you did before. Maybe I was doing it w-… do this again!"

He really,  _really_ liked this side of her. And the mental image she had just provided him with did nothing to lessen the urgency of his desire. He would like to see  _that_ sometime. He kept the thought to himself for the time being, though.

"It's always better when it's someone else," he agreed. "But the memories help."

She bit her lip.

"Have you ever…?" she started but trailed off.

"What? Touched myself? Of course. Ships can be lonely places."

"No. Have you… thought of me?"

 _If only she knew_. Nevertheless, it was such a bold question that he paused to take a good look at her.

 _Never underestimate this one, mate_ , he made a mental note, but there was a reckless cheerfulness accompanying that statement in his mind.

"Lizzie, why do ye think I can't use the compass?" he asked, seemingly of of the blue.

It looked like the question surprised her. He had absolutely no doubt where the mischievous nautical instrument would point if he opened it right then.

"I was wondering about that, actually," she said. "I don't know. Why can't you?"

"I think ye do know, darlin'."

"What are you suggesting, Captain?"

"That I've lost my goddamn mind, that's what I'm suggesting."

She looked like she wanted to say something, but only gasped when he showed her exactly what he meant with his fingers still between her legs.

"Ye know what I want, 'Lizbeth," he said before kissing a path down her neck.

She might just not be aware of  _how much_  he wanted it. There was only so much a man could take, though, so he paused and relocated his hands to her hips.

"Jack! Don't be a tease," she protested.

He actually barked out with laughter at that.

"You're one to talk..."

He slid down and hooked his arm under her knee to hitch her leg higher. He wiggled even lower until he was able to place her calf on his shoulder. He heard a faint jingle and glanced sideways to discover the anklet dangling next to his ear. He did not think much before turning his head and kissing her calf and then underside of her knee. She shivered.

"What are you doing?"

"Kissing you," he said smirking and moved forward with his exploration.

"Jack…" she hesitated. "I'm not sure..."

"I am. Trust me on this one, love, I've never heard anyone complaining about that. Just tell me if I'm wrong, eh?"

She made a gesture as if she intended to comb her fingers through his hair, but of course they got tangled in his dreadlocks. Without breaking the eye-contact, he kissed her bellybutton and the soft flesh below it. And then…

"Does  _this_  work both ways, too?" she asked cocking her head to the side.

 _Vicious vixen! -_  he thought surprised and a little impressed.

"You bet it does," he said, his voice hoarse.

He was not sure how it was even possible at that point, but he got harder.

_Just wait, ye minx…_

He rubbed the apex of her thigh with his thumb and then just dove in, his mouth descending on her centre.

"Oh.." was all she managed to say.

 _Oh, indeed_ , he thought with a sense of vengeance. He was going to show her.

Usually, it did not matter to Jack whether or not he was the first one to do certain things with a lover, but he found that it did feel nice to know that no-one before him had done this to her or make her feel like this and suddenly, there was no stone he wished to leave unturned. Selfishly, he wanted her to remember this night and him as something she would always compare all her other nights to, when she would try to get a gauge whether they measured up. He wanted to get under her skin, to burn the memory of his touch into every cell of her body, so she would forever carry it in her. It almost felt like he could make her his this way, if only temporarily. He wanted to tie her to himself in the ways that were scary, to steal her for good. He wanted to ruin her for anybody else, and that was the truth.

Because, she did not get to make him lose his mind and walk away unchanged. There was a price for unravelling him, there had to be, because he needed it to glue himself back together.

But right then, she was the one split open before him like a seashell and he knew well enough to search for the pearl it was surely hiding. He held her hips when they buckled and whispered some nonsense that seemed to make all the sense in the world at the moment. She mewled in the most alluring way and fisted her hands in the sheets. He did not hush her, as he saw no reason for her to be quiet. Instead, he helped himself with his hand, his fingers stretching her in unmentionable places in attempt to prepare her for him.

"Jack," she moaned and he doubled his efforts.

She was soft and willing, and feeling her like that made him burn for her.

He could not wait any longer, he suddenly realised. He had wanted her too much and for too long to allow him such level of patience. The sight of her bare flesh, the sound of his name on her lips, the taste of her desire, it was all driving him crazy and he felt that if he did not give in, he would lose control soon.

She whimpered in protest when he detached his mouth from her after one final suck and crawled up her body. He took his hand away as well, so he could use his elbows to support his weight and settled himself between her thighs, hissing at the contact when his member finally brushed against her centre. He rested his forehead against hers.

"Lizzie," he urged. "Tell me now."

He rocked his hips against hers seeking some semblance of relief and watched her eyes open slowly, as if she was waking from a dream. She opened and closed her mouth two times and licked her lips before speaking; his heart almost stopped when he waited for her answer. All he needed was one word from her, one word that would tell him that he could take what he so desperately wanted and which seemed to hold the power to save him or doom him at the moment. He could easily imagine her balk at the last second, pushing him away to his infinite disappointment and leaving him to the agony of the unfulfilled desire.

 _Please_ , he chanted in his mind.  _Not now. Please, don't do this to me now. I need you. So close…_

"Just don't stop," she breathed and he half-laughed, half-groaned, dizzy with crashing relief.

He kissed her deeply, pouring all his gratitude and lust into it and rubbed himself against her, pressing his aroused body against her slick, silky flesh. The way she shifted under him and wrapped her arms around him told him that she liked feeling him like this, but that was the easy part.

He knew he should have probably warned her, but he had already asked her and it would have made her tense, which was the opposite of his intention, therefore he discarded the idea. So he did not warn her before swiftly positioning himself and then pushing in as steadily as he could.

He heard her breath hitch and he grit his teeth hard, forcing himself to breath through his nose. He could feel a bead of sweat trickling down his spine from the effort to stay in control.

 _Slowly_ , he ordered himself, but never before had his body and mind been in such a violent conflict.

It was like sailing through the storm, the amount of concentration and strength he used to steer himself smoothly instead of just crushing into her comparable to when he held the spokes at the helm manoeuvring his way through the high waves, complete with the secret thrill of standing tall in midst of the elements.

He knew he was in trouble if he was comparing a woman to the sea.

She did tense, goddammit, and he felt like such a bastard for feeling so good, so bloody good that he could just lose his mind. Maybe it was a mistake, but he did not stop until he was fully sheltered within her. He knew he had to be careful, but he did not want to prolong what was most likely a painful process to her either.

He exhaled and closed his eyes momentarily, his senses in too much overload to take in everything at once. He wished he could force the time to stand still so he could capture this moment and just soak it in, basking in one of the rare, fleeting instances in his life when he had everything he desired, all the more precious because he knew well enough that it would not, could not last. Come morning he would be running and fighting wit, teeth and nails for his survival again, the gloomy fate already looming over him, but right then he was free, sailing the high seas, a captain bowing to no master. He had his crew, he had his beloved ship and he had her – his perfectly imperfect pirate lass. Perfectly imperfect… Imperfectly perfect…

"Lizzie..."

He opened his eyes and finally took a good look at her face. His heart instantly ached, because he was met with a startled expression, her brows twitching in a mild frown, her eyes suspiciously shiny. She looked surprised, wide-eyed and slightly hurt. He felt a sliver of panic trickle down his spine. She had known, had she not? She had had to know…

Perhaps she had, but she had forgotten. Or she had not believed. Or – the last and possibly the worst option – it had simply been worse than she had expected.

He sobered up enough to rein in his lust. Words – whispered, feverish words of comfort bubbled up and spilled from his lips before he even knew what he was saying. Apologies, assurances, promises: that it was all right, that this would pass soon, that he did not want to hurt her, that it was over and it was going to get better, and he was sorry, so sorry, but he needed her to relax and trust him…

She stopped him with a finger laid on his lips. He hushed and stared at her worried for a few seconds.

"Can you make it good again?" she simply asked and his heart stirred when he saw the hope in her eyes: the faith in him.

He nodded.

"I will," he swore, desperately wanting her to believe that. Out of the countless hasty promises he had made without much regard whether he would be able to upkeep his word, he really wished that this time he would not make a liar of himself.

He brushed her almost-tear away and tried to pour everything he could not tell her into a kiss. He held his body still, her distress waking his upper brain up, and did his best to sooth her. His efforts were not in vain, because she gradually slackened in his arms and she was kissing him back. He felt her fingers timidly ghosting over his spine, from the base of his neck downwards. It made his skin skin break out in goosebumps, which was interesting considering how intimate they already were. He shivered and broke away. When he looked at her, she had an expression on her face that he did not know what to make of.

"Something wrong?" he asked apprehensively.

She simply shook her head slowly.

"You sure?"

Instead of answering, she took his face in her hands and brushed her thumbs against his cheekbones.

"You're sweet," she said, sounding almost confused.

He frowned hard and she cracked a smile.

"Just kiss me, Jack."

That, finally, sounded like a piece of solid advice.

But the next kiss was not comforting. It was seductive. Once again, he reached with his hand between their bodies to sweeten the strain he was putting her under with the promise of fulfilment. He rubbed the sensitive bundle of flesh with his fingers until he heard her breathing change.

"Better?" he asked smugly, because he already knew the answer.

"Yes," she whispered.

"Good. Believe me now?"

She nodded.

"I told you," he murmured. "It won't get worse now.  _Only_  better."

Slowly, he allowed himself to move, the slow pace an excruciatingly delicious torture. She inhaled sharply, but after a moment of hesitation wrapped him tightly in her arms. His eyes drifted close for a moment when he finally felt her fully relax under him and decided that it was all right to let himself enjoy it. His oversensitive nerve endings were crackling with energy, his blood sizzling in his veins and he could not contain the heady rush of victory one was bound to experience when they had just managed to make true a dream that had seemed out of their reach for the longest time. She fit him so snugly, her body hugging him inwardly and outwardly, her long legs slowly draping themselves over him as well. She felt every bit as good as he had imagined she would and then some, overwhelming and refreshing at once, the feeling that made his brain shut down for everything that was not her. Now, that he started moving, he could not stop.

"Me sweet, sweet, lovely Lizzie," he sighed.

She  _was_ his. This could never be undone, this could never be denied. He was inside her now, in more senses than one. This would change her. Transform her. But he was eager to see that, because he had an inkling that the new Elizabeth would be a step closer to becoming a part of his world.

He felt a touch on his cheek and opened his eyes to look at her. She was watching him with that blasted curiosity of hers and he knew that he was getting more out of this than she did. Even though she did not seem upset by that, he wished to change that, to make her understand.

He did not know her body yet – hell, she did not know it either – but he knew enough. He settled into a steady pace that seemed to agree with both of them. His mouth wandered to the tender spot he had already discovered on her neck and he nibbled on it. Elizabeth shuddered and wiggled in a way that sent a surge of most delicious sensations to his core.

"Yes, love," he whispered. "Help me."

"Show me how," she whispered back.

He grabbed her hip and guided her movements to match his own. She was with him, then, truly, her body no longer resisting his intrusion, but accepting him and sucking him in. He let the waves of lust and pleasure roll over him with every rocking motion, in a fluid rhythm that seemed to be carrying him rather than being created by him.

"Jack," her voice called him back from the fog his mind was submerged in. "More."

This must have been the most gracious order ever directed his way. He was eager to fulfil it, but when he – quite happily – sped up, it suddenly occurred to him for the first time that he might not be able to deliver. It had never been an even race, with Elizabeth's progress being hindered by her discomfort at the beginning and his accelerated by the pent-up desire. There was a downside to the high the experience was bringing him to, and it was the fact he had only so much time before his body would surrender to it.

It was probably quite natural. He did not even know if it was common for women to reach their completion during their first night. Girls did not talk about things like that. This was something that seemed to get better with time in general, though, so he had his suspicions.

Regardless… he did not like the thought. Perhaps it was just a primitive male pride, but it was a startling and frustrating realisation, more so because he felt that she was on the right track to get her satisfaction, only he was not sure if he would be able to hold on for so long. And this  _would simply not do_. He  _needed her_  to finish with him. Because only if she did, it would be perfect.

"Lizzie, luv… I need..."

She gazed at him with that dreamy, hooded look one ever really got only from a lover, her lips parted and a question forming in her eyes.

"So beautiful," he mumbled rather incoherently.

"What?" she asked placing a hand on his neck. "What do you need, darling?"

His addled brain barely registered the curious fact that she had just called him an endearment – something he had never heard her do before – but he was too far gone to be able to think much of that.

"You… with me,  _now_ , Lizzie, come with me now..."

It was a good thing that his instinct was pretty reliable in these matters, because he was slipping, just letting the flow carry him. He looked down and caught a glimpse of her body under him. A tantalising sight of her torso made him bend and capture a hardened nipple with his mouth, which won him another moan from her. He shifted, adjusting the angle and blindly searched for one more secret spot hidden within her that could help him. He immediately knew when he found it, because she dug her fingers into his back, hard.

"Here?" he asked hoarsely, repeating his last motion. Apparently, it worked miracles.

"Yessss..."

"Again?"

She whimpered.

"God, Jack, don't you dare stopping."

"Wasn't planning on that, love."

She clang to him with apparent greed which thrilled him even more, as his hips rocked over and over. There was not much he could concentrate on other than the fervent need to spend himself deep inside her. There was a nagging pesky part of his brain that reminded him that  _that_ was  _not_ what he should do, but, oh, she was so close, too, and he could feel that he was just a breath away from succeeding in his mission, just a little more and…

 _And why not?_ \- a defiant voice in his head suddenly cut in. -  _This is my_ _ **wife**_ _._

He knew that there was a reason why he should not listen to that tempting voice, but for the life of him, he could not recall what it was.

He heard her repeating his name and it was just too much. He could not hold back any longer, so it was not even a conscious decision when his body betrayed him and gave up, with the strangest mix of defeat and relief washing over him.

But as it turned out, his luck had not abandoned him, because that was enough. His eyes rolled back when he felt her shudder, her back arching and pressing into his frame, her body gripping him firmly from within and fluttering, swooping away the remains of his sanity. He welcomed the euphoria, the sudden rush of pleasure originating in his loins and exploding in pulsing rhythm that crashed over him and reached all the way to his toes and fingertips. He moved a few final times, no longer capable of caring whether he was being gentle, just riding high and blind to anything else, until his body became lax, heavy, and utterly spent.

He sighed and closed his eyes in rapture, not able, nor willing to move just yet and simply breathed, basking in the aftershocks of his completion. His mind a blank but a happy, happy place. He did not know when was the last time he felt so good. The seconds ticked off, but he had no desire to relocate. Finally, he felt Elizabeth stir and he reluctantly rolled over.

What surprised him, was his immediate desire to go back. He ignored it (because, frankly, it was a bit ridiculous) and after staring at the ceiling for a few seconds flipped onto his side and looked over at Elizabeth.

She was laying on her back, still catching her breath. There was damp hair plastered on her forehead, her cheeks were even more flushed than before and her whole skin was dewy with perspiration, but the glistening quality only added to the allure, especially when his eyes skipped across her collarbones and chest.

She turned her head toward him when she felt him staring and caught his eye. They looked at each other from close proximity.

"Not bad, huh?" he asked grinning cheekily.

She responded with an unexpected bout of giggle. The sound caused a warming sensation spreading in his stomach. Her laughter quieted and ended with a sigh.

Jack mimicked Elizabeth's gesture from before and rubbed his nose against hers. Her eyes fluttered close. She was probably exhausted and it occurred to him that she might just doze off if he let her.

"Come on, sweetheart," he coaxed softly, smoothing her hair and discovering that it was caught in her earring in the process. "Ye don't want to fall asleep like this."

"Mmmm?" she blinked confused and searched his face for answers.

He untangled her hair and gently removed the earring before explaining.

"We've made a mess," he said motioning with his hand to her lower body.

She glanced down and her eyes widened for a second when she realised what he meant.

"Oh," she said weakly and bit her lip.

"It's nothing a little water wouldn't solve," he reassured quickly, seeing the beginning of a frown forming on her face. Not good. Not quite  _bad_ as of yet, but not good either.

She gave him an unconvinced look, as if she doubted that would be enough to wash away the traces of what they had just done, and in a way, she was correct.

"Stay here," he ordered, determined to take care of her. "I'll be right back."

He paused for a moment to remove her other earring and noticed that the two were boldly mismatched.

"Interesting choice" he said appreciatively. "I like it."

"Oh, shut it," she quipped without any real bite.

Jack gave her a quick kiss before jumping off the bed in search of what he needed. He was already halfway across the room before he realised that he was still buck naked so he decided that it was not worth going back to change that. His body was still humming with energy, adding a spring to his step. He swiftly moved to the main cabin and rummaged through his belongings making some noise when he threw a few objects over his shoulder in his haste. It did not take him long to locate a bowl, a cloth (much longer, a  _clean_  cloth) and a pitcher of water. He spared a moment to clean himself up, shivering a little at the coolness of the water on his oversensitive flesh and then tailed back to the bedroom with the supplies. He found Elizabeth covered with a sheet, which was disappointing, but at least she did not seem to be going anywhere.

"Here," he said. "The water's cold, I'm afraid, but it would take longer to warm it now."

"It's all right," she said in a quiet voice. "Would you mind turning around?"

He frowned but obliged. There was no reason for her to feel embarrassed around him. He would give her her space, though, so instead of just standing there and making it awkward for both of them he wandered into another part of the cabin and poured himself a cup of water. He drank it greedily, only then noticing how thirsty he was.

"Do you want something to drink?" he offered.

Perhaps a nightcap would sooth her?

"No, thank you," she said politely. "I'm fine."

Was she, though?

 _Ye should have just let her sleep, ye imbecile_ , he thought with a tingle of worry in his stomach.

"Jack?" she called softly before he could come up with another thing to say.

"Yes?"

"Will you stay?"

Both the question and the tone struck him, making him freeze momentarily. Then he blinked a few times, processing, an emotion he could not quite put a name on flooding him when he vaguely understood what was going on.

He did not bother pointing out to her that this was his cabin, so her inquiry made little sense. He simply turned around and walked back to the bed.

"Of course," he said, his voice low and slightly hoarse.

He gave her a long look before snuffing out the lamp and slipping under the covers next to her.

"I wasn't going to leave," he clarified taking her in his arms.

He felt her nodding against his chest. He stroked her unruly hair.

"Let's get some rest now, aye?" he whispered.

Instead of answering, she curled her arm around his ribcage. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and closed his eyes. It did not take long before sleep claimed them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, was it too much? Not enough?


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just going to drop the chapter and hide.

The world came back into Elizabeth's focus slowly. She sighed and kept her eyes closed, not willing to leave the cosy land of dreams just yet. She had had a crazy, absolutely outrageous, and yet the most delicious dream ever. She focused on remembering the details of it. She had dreamed of Jack and of… a wedding? She had to smile at that. Well, that was just silly. What kind of ludicrous fantasy was her mind up to? There had been a dress and a ring, they had danced and laughed and… oh… and it had been… Jack had been so…

She opened her eyes and stared at the sun reflexes dancing on the wooden ceiling.

Oh yes.  _It sure had been. That_ part was something she would certainly keep to herself. She bit her lip. She felt a pang of guilt for experiencing the thrill that ran through her at the memory of Jack making love to her.

Correction: she felt guilty for not feeling more guilty at the thought. There was no denying that the dominant feeling accompanying her while considering that particular mental image was not guilt. She decided to blame Jack and his unfairly good looks on that. The man was just oozing the charisma.

She stretched and yawned, getting ready to start the day and then she noticed two things: one, she was a bit sore in rather unusual places; two, a flash of gold on her wrist caught her attention. She stilled and stared at the bracelets on her arm. On her bare arm, to be precise.

... _Jack had taken off her earrings, but not the bracelets…_  -

Tentatively, she examined the rest of her body in sight, an obvious conclusion already forming at the back of her mind, though she was not letting it surface yet. She was coved with a sheet up to her chest and it took her only about two seconds to realise that she was completely naked under the covers. She suddenly felt light-headed.

_Oh no, you didn't,_ she thought to herself.

Only it looked more and more like she had. She shot a few quick glances around her, and sure enough, this was not her cabin.

_Elizabeth Swann! What in the world were you thinking?_

Immediately, her mind supplied her with a long list of the things she  _had_  been thinking about, making her blush furiously.

This was no dream. She had married Jack Sparrow and she would be lying if she said that she had not been enjoying every single second of it. God, what was she going to do now?

Her next thought made her freeze. She drew her breath cautiously, her heart pounding in her chest as she slowly turned her head, an unbidden excitement and trepidation battling in her…

...and then she exhaled noisily, disappointment crashing down on her when she saw that the pillow next to her was empty. He was not there.

Her stomach dropped, revealing how much the fact upset her. Did it really mean so little...

_And why wouldn't it? -_ a cynic voice whispered inside her head. -  _It's not like he hasn't done this before. It's not like you're special._

She did not know why she was even surprised. After all, he was Jack Sparrow. He was no Will Turner, who…

_Will..._

She was supposed to marry Will… She covered her face with her hands.

What was she even going to tell him? That she fell for Jack's tricks, like a naive stupid girl she was? Like every other woman to cross Jack's path. Will would never understand.

_Will wouldn't have left you without a word._

Good, sweet, reliable Will. So patient and so loyal. So devoted. So… faithful. She squeezed her eyelids shut, willing the world to rearrange itself into a shape where she was not in bed curled into a ball alone, having just betrayed her fiancé and childhood friend. She wished for a different morning after her wedding, the  _right_ one, where she would have just woken up to her husband's kiss and smiling face, after a night of… well, actually, the night part did not need much changing.

The problem was, no matter how hard she tried, she could not make said face look like Will's. Her throat tightened.

Will had not deserved to be cheated on. It had been wrong to do that to him and no matter how much she did not want to think about that, she could see as much.

Only it had not felt like a mistake – at least, not at the time. It had not felt wrong or crude, or cheap, not at all. It had felt…

...good.

Jack had been kind to her: just the right side of considerate and passionate at once. His touch had been gentle, but also firm and skilled, enough so for the memory of it to send a shiver down her spine even now. He had made her feel safe. True, there had been some pain at first, but it did not feel fair to say that he had hurt her – the sting seemingly a reasonable price to pay for the rapture it could unlock.

It had been perfect.

It had been a lie.

Elizabeth sat up quickly, suddenly feeling quite vulnerable just under a thin cover. She looked around for her clothes only to realise that her garb from the night before was carelessly sprawled on the floor. She was not particularly looking forward to putting it on again, but she had little choice unless she wanted to wear some of Jack's things and the idea did not appeal to her at the moment.

_Where are you?_  she thought. It mattered not, because the answer was obviously:  _not here_.

She crawled off the bed and threw the outfit on her back. She experienced none of the joy the process of putting it on had brought her the night before.

_It's for the best_ , she told herself. It was even better that he was not there, at least she knew where she stood right away. At least no-one had seen her when she had realised that Jack was gone and she did not have to deal with him just yet.

She moved to the main cabin, intent on leaving immediately and changing into her own clothes, but her eye caught her reflection in the mirror. Suddenly, she felt like she could not get rid of the jewels fast enough. She tore the bracelets off her hands, then tugged on the necklace, almost breaking it in her haste. The last item made her hesitate for a moment. She paused looking at the ring on her finger and felt her eyes stinging, her own weakness making her angry.

She jumped and the stiffened when she heard the door creak behind her back.

"Ah. Ye're up," she heard Jack's voice, unexpectedly soft, but expectedly carefree.

She felt her blood boil. He did not sound apologetic at all.

Later, she would remember the little details of that moment – the fact that his hands were full with something he was carrying, the slight tilt of his head and the brightness of his eyes – details about him that escaped her notice at the time. She would try to recall them on purpose, desperate to piece together the puzzle of Jack Sparrow. Like the look on his face when he had first entered the room, before she spoke and he realised that she was cross with him – too fleeting to fully register in her memory, but certainly different than the one that replaced it later.

But at the moment, she was too wrapped up in her own tumultuous emotions to pay attention to anything else.

"I was just leaving," she said as calmly as she could manage, almost shaking from the effort of keeping her composure intact, determined to cling to the remains of her dignity.

It was bad enough that she had been made a fool by Jack, but she did not think that she could stand the humiliation if he decided to gloat about his conquest and the shadow of a smile in a corner of that blasted, kissable mouth of his was not boding well for her.

"Leaving?" it was the note of confusion in his voice that made her finally meet his eye. He was frowning. "Where to?"

"My cabin first, to change, and then the deck," Elizabeth replied matter-of-factly.

Jack's eyes hardened, instantly transforming his features. He was not amused, she could tell, and somehow, it angered her even more. He had no right to be displeased with her. She had not wronged him.  _He_  had not lost anything. And yet, he continued as if she was the inconsiderate one.

"Is that all ye have to say to me?" he asked, annoyance ringing clearly in his voice.

She shrugged, avoiding looking at him.

"What else is there to say?"

He crossed the distance between them in a few quick, long steps and got right into her personal space.

Some part deep within her wanted him to laugh at her and deny what she had just implied, but she was too scared that he would not, to straightforwardly confront him about what she wanted to know. Unfortunately, it seemed that Jack's temper had flared at her words and he was not in a mood to show the good-natured side of his person anymore.

"What? No good morning?" he mocked instead, his eyes narrowed. "No kiss?" His voice dropped. "Not even a good-bye?"

Her head snapped sharply and she just glared at him, because how  _dared he_  to hold it against her if she had planned on sneaking out without talking to him, when he had done the same thing to her?"

"Stop it," she spat with too much venom, because his words hurt.

"Stop what? Ye can't hide from this, Elizabeth. Where were ye planning to run, huh? We're on a ship."

"I'm not running," she bit back defensively, irked by the barely veiled accusation of cowardice, from Jack, of all people. "I was just leaving. Not everything is about you, Jack."

"Ye know, ye were much nicer last night," he blurted, making her grit her teeth, hard.

Why was he being so cruel?

"Are you proud of yourself?" she finally snapped, her anger burning even hotter, because the look on his face told her that he had been. She snorted. "Of course you are. Why would  _you_  care about such trifles as moral code? I suppose it's of no concern to a pirate as long as you got what you wanted? But excuse me if I'm not all smiles while I spare a moment to reflect on the fact that you had just single-handedly derailed my whole life, betraying someone else – a good man – in a process."

She saw a muscle on Jack's cheek twitch at the mention of Will. His eyes flared, simultaneously hot and very cold. She flinched when she felt the full force of his black orbs focusing on her. He had never directed that particular look at her before.

"For the record, I don't think I was the only one who got what they wanted last night," he said flatly. "I seem to recall that you rather enjoyed it when I fucked ye."

Her hand flew toward his face and connected with his cheek with a loud smack before she even knew she moved it. She was a little shocked by her own display when she saw Jack's head turn at the impact. For a few seconds, she just stared at him in a stunned silence, not sure what to do next.

When he looked at her, his face was so closed off that she could not read anything from it.

"Say what ye want, Elizabeth," he said, deceptively calmly, "but whatever ye decide to tell yer precious whelp, do not lie to yerself: ye did what ye did because that was yer choice, not because I  _made ye_. I didn't force ye to anything and we both know that."

She felt a pang of guilt, because admittedly, he was right, and his words made her remember how much care he had put in making sure that she had known she had been free to refuse him, which in turn helped her to understand his current mood a little better. A voice inside her whispered that her choice of words had been poor and unfair. She could not put the blame entirely on him. She had known him, she had known what she was getting into… She had known better than expect anything different. She had not really wanted to imply what he had just alluded to – she was not dumb, she could see the mere suggestion deeply offended Jack. However…

His own crude choice of words stung no less than the slap she had just delivered, or so she thought. Everything in her rebelled against it and she wanted him to take it back. And so, the apology froze on her lips.

Finally, when she did not respond, he looked away, as if disappointed, and walked past her. He slammed the tray she had only just noticed he had been carrying onto the table with an unnecessary force, making her jump a little.

"Have it yer way, then," he said. "Enjoy yer breakfast."

...and then, he swiftly turned on his heel and marched out of the cabin without looking at her.

She blinked, confused, and her glance landed on the table. In her upset state, it took her several seconds to take in what she was staring at and a few more for the possible meaning behind the contents of the tray to hit her. She made a few steps forward to take a better look, a strange sense of vertigo overcoming her at the sight of food piled on the plates – bread, cheese, eggs, fruit – enough of it for at least two people. There were even a few parsley stems stuck in the middle, as if for decoration. Had he brought it for  _her_ …?

She twirled around, her breath suddenly caught in her throat and her pulse racing.

"Jack...!"

But her voice was too weak and he was already too far away to hear her.

Elizabeth looked over her shoulder again, facts rearranging itself in her head anew. She did not dare to touch the goods, just stared at the food and the green leaves, her eyes starting to burn again. She stood rooted on her spot, paralysed by the sinking feeling that she had just made a mistake.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I decided to switch the POVs more often now that the action picked up. Here is a short piece from Jack.

JPOV

Jack Sparrow was at the one place he always sought when he needed to sooth his troubled soul: the helm of the  _Black Peal._  He regretted not having a forethought of bringing rum with him, though.

He drummed his fingers on the spokes.

The morning had started quite pleasantly, with him waking up next to beautiful, naked woman, but at the moment, he was in a bloody awful mood.

The crew had greeted him with stupid grins, which he had ignored and which had started to irritate him something fiercely when he had reappeared on deck after his brief visit to the captain's quarters. Thankfully, a well-aimed scowl and a few barked orders had been enough for the pirates to get a clue. No-one had bothered him since then, but he could see them whispering among themselves and glancing his way when they thought he was not looking.

His cheek had been stinging for way too long. Longer than he was used to. And even when it stopped, it was still… Itching. Yes, itching. Like… he knew it no longer stung but he was still aware that it had been, just moments ago.

_What are ye so_ _ruffled_   _about_ _?_ he asked himself, swaying slightly on his heals.  _It's_ _not like this hasn't happened to ye before._

Sure, getting slapped was nothing new, but for some reason, this time he had difficulty with shrugging it off. He hated to admit it, but it hurt something more than his face – something he told himself was his pride.

Usually, it was getting a girl  _out_  of his bed, not  _in_  that was the trickiest part of the deal. They dragged their feet on their way out, annoying him immensely with their attempts of slowing him down, when his ever-restless mind was already thousands miles away, plotting several new ventures at once. It had caught him completely off guard, first, that he had found that he had not minded at all her still sleeping next to him,  _snuggled_  into his side, when normally he would just disentangle himself and go on his merry way, secondly, that it was only by chance that he had even managed to catch her before she had slipped away. Not that he had never got an earful and a smack from a maiden with second thoughts in the morning, but they were most definitely  _there_  to deliver it. Elizabeth's composed disappearing act had just not been something he had been prepared for, especially when he had half-hoped to crawl back into that bed at the time. He was not sure how to proceed. It felt odd.

He gripped the spokes tighter and – as if to add to his worries – he felt a burning sensation on the inside of his right hand. He turned it apprehensively to discover that the black spot was back, making his stomach turn.

"Brilliant," he muttered and then cursed.

His time was running out.

He opened the compass to check the course only to snap it shut angrily seconds later.  _That_ problem was supposed to be solved by then. He got what he wanted, did he not? It was a good thing that he had charted the course the minute he got the heading and he knew what island they were heading toward, but he would still need to consult the compass once they reached it, and he could not help but wonder what he would do then.

He was not done, plain and simple. With the world, with life, with  _her_.

He wanted her again… still. Bugger. This was not supposed to happen to him.

He grimaced.

It would be best to leave it at that. Rationally, he should be relieved. The timing was horrible. Besides, commitments were pesky business. Bloody inconvenient. A woman on board…  _his_  woman... was a… complication. This way, perhaps they could just pretend it had never happened, which would be the easiest way out for both of them. It would help him avoid unpleasant occurrences, like possible duels with certain William Turner. Yet, Jack's relationship with reason was a twisted one. It wasn't that he did not understand the rules, he was not trying to quite break them, either. Just… bend a little.

His train of thoughts was interrupted by Elizabeth emerging from below deck. She was dressed in her sailor's clothes again and looking around, as if searching for something. He wondered if her intention was finding him and then he got distracted by the sight of Pintel and Ragetti elbowing each other while glancing at her and chuckling idiotically. He frowned.

"Land ho!" a voice from above interrupted his thoughts.

"Finally," he said relieved. They were cutting it close. Still, there was no time to lose. "Master Gibbs!" he called, itching for action. "Take the helm."

He let go of the helm not waiting for his first mate who scrambled to fill the post in time. Jack stepped down and went straight to his moody bride – who was apparently in the middle of a conversation of no other than James Norrington.

"... better than this, Elizabeth," he caught the tail of the exchange and did not like it one bit, so without thinking, he simply stepped between the duo.

Neither did he like the fact that the man's eyes immediately landed on Jack's still slightly warm – and probably reddened – left cheek. He saw Elizabeth's glance follow ex-commodor's stare and then pale visibly.

"Mr. Norrington!" Jack barked, annoyed. "Ye're coming with us. And since you seem to be quite skilled at digging yerself a hole, grab a shovel. Ye're going to need it. 'Lizbeth..." he turned to Elizabeth.

"Jack, I..." she started, but it was not a place and definitely not a time for that, so he simply raised his finger to cut her off:

"Ye're coming too," he said before she could get anything else out and he marched away shouting orders for getting the longboat ready.

If he was being short with her, he thought he was excused, both by her earlier behaviour and his hurry to get them both on dry land. He did not know how long it would take the Kraken to find him, but did not wish to take any unnecessary risks.

He recruited the two morons he would rather keep an eye on for rowing and got into the boat himself, but not before a quick run to his cabin to get the jar of dirt. As peculiar as the gift seemed, he knew better than to dismiss Tia's help.

Elizabeth eyed the jar uncertainly, but kept quiet when she settled on the bench near him. He kept his face purposely impassive, not wanting to give anything away, but he was much more anxious than he would want his crew to believe.

He felt a light touch on his hand and looked down to find Elizabeth's fingers grazing the edge of the fabric he had hastily tied back around the black spot.

"What happened to your hand?" she asked softly.

He instinctively jerked his hand back, not willing to reveal the grim mark to her, but the look of disappointment on her face did not escape his notice.

"Nothing," he lied quickly.

"Jack..." Elizabeth whispered.

She sounded apologetic and though he was not sure what she was sorry about – the slap, the argument, an empty promise or rushed accusations, today's morning or last night – her touch, her voice, concerned and almost shy, were enough to stir the restless contents of his heart and the hope flicker back dangerously.

Maybe he got it wrong? Maybe she had simply got scared and he should have just let her cool off instead of letting his wounded ego get the better of him and snapping at her?

He cringed inwardly when he recalled his earlier outburst. Well, that certainly had not helped his cause.

He opened his mouth to answer her when a soft snicker from Norrington's direction caught his attention. Elizabeth immediately looked away embarrassed and Jack was left with nothing to do but to glare at the former commodore and curse him internally. The interruption reminded him that their conversation was not private, though, so he did not pursue the matter.

He shot Elizabeth a stealthy, sidelong glance and studied her from under his lashes. She looked sad, her internal light that had been shining so brightly only a day ago seemingly dulled. He did not like seeing her like that. Yet, she did not look angry anymore, and there was a selfish part of him that acknowledged it to be a good sign for him.

They spent the rest of the short trip to the shore in silence interrupted only by the sounds of water and soon, they were jumping out of the boat and onto the white beach.

"Let's find this chest, shall we?" Jack said handing Elizabeth the compass.

She looked at it as if it was a poisonous spider. Only then he realised the conundrum he was facing himself: he could not decide where he wanted it to point to for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To answer the concerns some of you had regarding last chapter: yes, of course it's still a Sparrabeth story.
> 
> Also, I thought it was awfully convinient that it was Norrington with Jack and Elizabeth on that longboat on the quest for digging up the heart, so I thought I'd give Jack an excuse to bring him along.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Are you ready for another chapter? Well, here it is. I feel like I owe you a warning, though: it contains William Turner ;)
> 
> Also, this chapter contains lines from the movie, but no copyright infringement is intended. Credit to the original writers.
> 
> Enjoy.

**EPOV**

Everything was such a mess. Not only was Jack cross with her, as it turned out, with a reason ( _she still could not believe she had hit him so hard!_ ) but now she had a feeling that things were spiralling out of control very quickly, the danger she had purposely forgotten about before closing in and threatening to render any chance of sharing a peaceful moment of so much needed conversation with Jack less and less likely.

True, the reality of her situation had not changed much from what she had seen it for in the morning – she was still very much in trouble, having irreversibly complicated and possibly ruined at least one of the few important relationships in her life, facing the frightening prospect of revealing her betrayal to Will – but Jack's role in all that did not look like she had imagined it back then. Other than him using that one, unacceptable word, that is – which she was still mad at him about. She could cautiously assume, though, that it might have had something to do with the fact that he had most likely assumed she had callously rejected him along with his offering, since he had no way of knowing she had misread his intentions at the moment. She felt embarrassed when she realised that, from where he stood, it looked like she had done the exact same thing she had thought  _he_ had done to her, the thing that been precisely what had made her lose her cool – that she had planned on ignoring him. And even though she was convinced that Jack had much thicker skin when it came to dealing with disgruntled lovers, he had not deserved that from her. He had been trying, she could see as much.

The morning had only gone from bad to worse since then. For a moment there, she had considered chasing after Jack right away, but then lost her nerve, when she had realised that she still had not known what she wanted to tell him. Then, when she had been finally ready to face the world, she had run into a judgy James Norrington, who just  _had_  to remind her that Jack had not been the only one she had been unfair too.

 _I thought you were better than this, Elizabeth_.

What right did he have to say that to her? As much as she appreciated James, he had never seen her for who she was. That was part of the problem.

And then –  _then_  – Jack was putting that damned compass into her hand and it made her terrified when she realised that she had no idea where it would point, but the risk was very high that it would not be helpful at all.

So she closed her eyes and focused. She remembered Jack's words when he had first given it to her at the docks, searching for a way out of her pesky situation.

 _The phrasing_ , she remembered. Phrasing was important. Jack had played with words quite a bit when he had manipulated the device laying on her palm into giving him the course he needed.

So, what did she need?

She needed to keep both Jack and Will safe. Preferably herself, too. Will was trapped on  _the Flying Dutchman_ , the cursed ship which Captain's heart Jack seemed to be rather desperate to get hold on.

So, what did she  _want_? She wanted to catch a break. She wanted  _time_  to think, without the doom of imminent death looming over her. For that… she needed the chest.

She wanted the chest.

She clicked the small box in her hand open and only then opened her eyes to look down at it. She sighed with relief. It appeared that her little trick worked. She couldn't help but feel proud of herself. That is, until she glanced at Jack, whose face was frozen in a peculiar expression. Elizabeth felt her shoulders sag with defeat. This was simply not fair. She did her best, but somehow she still managed to let him down again.

"Well?" she snapped. "What now? Are we going to just stand here and waste our time?"

"Walk around until you find a spot where it turns in circles," Jack instructed sobering up. "Then you," he said turning to James and gesturing with his hand, "dig."

Having said that, he rather nonchalantly sat himself on a sandy hill, assuming a lotus position, as if he did not have a care in the world. He even closed his eyes. Elizabeth exchanged looks with James, who only shrugged and so she decided to follow the orders. Once James was already occupied with digging, she hesitantly walked toward Jack and sat on the dune next to him.

"So," she spoke, "what kind of burning need did you have that warranted making a deal with Davy Jones?"

Jack cracked one eye open and shot her a startled glance.

"How do ye know about Jones?" he asked suspiciously.

"I read," she quipped.

She had been way too engrossed in reading all about the pirate lore not to come across the legend of the Captain of the Flying Dutchman and she thought that she knew Jack well enough to doubt his aim was to challenge the Ferryman of Death just for the sake of it. Something was telling her that Jack Sparrow was once again neck deep in trouble.

Jack pursed his lips.

"I thought we weren't talking," he grumbled.

Elizabeth frowned.

"You were  _rude_ ," she reminded him.

"Ye were rude first," he shot back.

She stopped herself from rolling her eyes at the childish remark and swallowed her reply, also because he was kind of right, even if she was tempted to sai that she had not been  _that_  rude.

"Stop avoiding the question," she said instead.

Jack chewed on his lip as if he was deciding whether he wanted to answer at all.

"I needed the boat," he admitted reluctantly.

"A boat?! You came to Davy Jones for a  _boat_?"

"Not  _a_  boat.  _The_ boat," Jack said glancing meaningfully at the sea.

Elizabeth followed his gaze and saw the  _Pearl_  swinging quietly on the waves in the distance.

"You got her from him?" she asked surprised.

Jack bristled.

"No. She was always  _mine_. I just needed him to haul her back from the depth."

"Jack," she said, both horrified and fascinated by the story, "please, tell me you didn't sell your soul for a ship."

He glanced sideways and her heart sank.

"It was years ago," he blurted defensively, waving his hands. "I didn't even think I'd live for as long as I did."

An awful suspicion sprouted in her mind. This time, he did not stop her when she took his hand and unwrapped the cloth from around, her heartbeat quickening both from anticipation and the simple fact that she was touching him again. Her body seemed hyper-aware of his presence.

She looked down and winced at the sight. It looked painful and worst of all, she knew what it meant. He was a marked man.

A year ago, she would have not believed in such things as black spots, selling souls, captains with supernatural powers and sea monsters. But that was before her time on the  _Black Pearl_  with Barbossa's cursed crew.

"You  _sailed_  with this?" she asked, feeling a little light-headed. "Jack!

She was pretty sure it had not been there the night before, but she could tell from his reaction that its appearance had not been a surprise for him, either.

Jack's nose twitched.

"I took precautions," he said, curling his fist to hide the mark from the view.

"Precautions?"

What kind of precautions  _could_  be taken?

Jack jutted his chin toward the jar of dirt. Elizabeth just stared at him incredulously. Before she could comment, though, they both turned their heads when they heard a thud as James's shovel hit something and Jack quickly jumped to his feet to inspect the discovery, Elizabeth hot on his heels. The box they were uncovering quickly took shape of a sea-chest, with a padlock that was broken easily enough with a shovel, but inside it, they found another chest, a smaller and much more ornate one, with a complicated locking mechanism. It was buried in pieces of yellowed paper. Elizabeth picked one of them and realised it was a letter. She filed the fact away for later, but her attention was redirected to something that felt more important at the moment when the men lowered their heads, seemingly listening to something. Elizabeth followed their lead and was startled when she heard a soft, but quit distinct thumping sound.

 _The heart_ , she thought amazed.

"It's real," James said, sounding surprised. "You actually were telling the truth."

The latter seemed to shock him even more than the fact that there was a living heart in the box. Jack shot him an annoyed glance.

"I do that quite a lot, yet people are always surprised," he grumbled.

Elizabeth almost smiled at that, but then a new voice cut in, making her heart jump to her throat.

"Not without reason."

She looked up and her brain froze when she saw the person standing only a few feet away from them on the beach.

"Will," she whispered, but her lips felt numb.

_She was not ready. She was not..._

She did not know what to do, so she simply stared at him for a few seconds. She glanced from one man to another and felt a sense of hysteria bubble in her at the irony of the twist of fate that had brought that particular trio of men to gather together around her, as if in some strange dream. She did not know if she should laugh or cry.

Then, guilt hit her with a renewed force and she quickly scrambled to her feet. All the blood rushing away and then back to her head made her dizzy and her vision blurred for a second or two.

"You're all right!" she exclaimed, asking herself if her voice had just climbed unnaturally high or if that was just her impression. "Thank God!"

She rushed toward her… former fiancé but then stopped uncertain just before she could reach him. She could almost feel Jack's eyes boring holes in the back of her scull. She felt a smidgen of panic when Will closed the remaining distance and swiftly dipped his head to kiss her. Her muscles tensed involuntarily, but Will didn't seem to notice that she went stiff in his arms, or he thought she was simply acting bashful because they had company. Meanwhile, she was too caught up in her internal conflict to move either way, her double betrayal making her head spin. She was not even sure anymore who it was she was supposed to feel guilty toward.

"How did you get here?" Jack's voice cut into her tumultuous thoughts like a whiplash.

She looked at him anxiously, belatedly realising the disaster this meeting was heading toward. She tried to predict what he was going to do, but she found herself drawing a blank. All she knew was that the moment he would tell Will, Will would reach for his sword.

"Sea turtles, mate," Will said sarcastically. "A pair of them, strapped to my feet."

Elizabeth kept looking at Jack, afraid of his reply. But then she watched him incredulously, when he schooled his face into a fake cheerful expression and simply said:

"Not so easy, is it?"

Wait a minute… He was  _not_  going to say anything? Was he going to pretend nothing happened?

Her stomach felt strangely weightless.

"But I do owe you thanks, Jack," Will continued.

"You do?" Jack asked looking at him quizzically, if a little suspiciously.

"After you tricked me onto that ship to square your debt with Jones..."

"What?" this time she said it out loud, as she felt strange sense of betrayal she probably had no right to experience washing over her.

"What?" Jack repeated, but he was fooling no-one.

"...I was reunited with my father."

"Oh, well... you're welcome, then."

She glared at Jack.

"Everything you said to me… every word was a lie!" she exclaimed, her voice breaking with emotion.

What  _else_  was a lie? Could one even ever know with Jack Sparrow?

Jack glanced at her and for the first time, a flicker of alarm briefly passed over his features.

"Not  _everything_ ," he disagreed vehemently. "Just the part 'bout William." And then he shrugged, as if in a weak apology. "Time and tide, love," he added.

Will, who ignored the exchange entirely, let go of Elizabeth and produced something from under his shirt. Jack's eyes focused sharply on the small object.

"I always knew you could make it back, mate," he said.

 _The key_ , Elizabeth suddenly understood.  _Had Jack sent Will for the key to the chest?_

 _Tricked, more likely_  – her common sense supplied.

Will strode across the beach with a single-minded objective. Elizabeth watched as he kneeled in front of the chest.

"I'm going to kill Jones," he said confidently.

But he did not get a chance to make good on his promise.

"Can't let ye do that, William," Jack said.

And then he moved faster than one drew a breath, sending a shiver down Elizabeth's spine when she saw a strange glint in his eye. She had not predicted that  _he_  would be the first one to draw a sword. Yet, undeniably, there was a blade at Will's throat and Jack looked every bit like he meant the threat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't remember anyone explaining to Elizabeth what was going on (since Jack was quite obviously trying to hide the truth from her) so I figured we may as well have it here.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see! I hope you're still there. Jack finally decided to talk to me, so here is my take on the beach scene. Again - some of the dilogue comes directly from the film.

Despite being a pirate through and through, Jack was not a violent man by nature. Sure, he did not shy away from drawing a weapon in a battle or even killing an opponent when a need for self-defence called, and he landed in one scuffle or another often enough, but he preferred resolving issues with a crafty choice of words over fighting. He was the type of man who knocked a guard out rather than slitting his throat when he needed to sneak in undetected, a captain who punished disobedient crew-members with additional load of work or by locking then in a brig to cool down rather than serving lashes to their back. And yet, he could not deny that putting a sword to William Turner’s neck brought him strange  _pleasure_ .

That sleazy, swollen-headed codpiece, with grubby hands and irritating voice. He thought he was charming, with his self-centred attitude, sour jokes and paws all over Jack’s wife. The last thing Jack would let the bastard do was getting them all killed because he had suddenly felt a foolish need to stab the heart instead of using it to negotiate with Jones.

Of course there was that uncomfortable little detail that Turner still did not know that Elizabeth was Jack’s wife. She did not tell him.

_She did not tell him!_

And if she did not, Jack sure would not be the one to break the news and risk getting heat for that from both Will and Elizabeth.

_Forget it, mate. She clearly doesn’t want him to know. She_ _**kissed** _ _him._

_She did not._ _**He** _ _kissed her._

That was probably the main reason why Jack still had a grip on his self-control: he watched her like a hawk and immediately noted that she did not raise her head to meet the whelp in a kiss and held her arms stiff at her sides. Could the mongrel not see that he was not welcome? Bloody hell, she probably still  _smelled_ of Jack.

_Ye have to admit, though, he has the impeccable timing where the key is concerned._

“Jack,” Elizabeth’s voice was both wary and held a warning for him.

He told himself to focus and zeroed his eyes on the boy, who, despite the cutlass resting at his throat, seemed still unaware of the seriousness of the danger he had found himself in from Jack, for the first time in their acquaintance.

“And why is that, Jack?” Will asked with barely veiled impatience.

“'Cause if Jones is dead, who's to call his terrible beastie off the hunt, eh? Now, if you please,” he extended his free hand toward young Turner. “The key.”

Will made a move as if he was going to fulfil his request, but at the last moment redirected his hands reaching for Elizabeth’s sword instead in a move that pulled an indignant gasp from the lass and earned him reluctant respect from Jack. The boy was learning. No matter what William liked to think, the time he had spent among pirates had not been without leaving mark on his conduct.

“Will!” Elizabeth hissed, looking unimpressed, this time with William. Jack could not quite tell if she she was more irked by the fact that from that moment onward, they were both pointing blades at each other, or just by the thievery itself.

“I keep the promises I make, Jack,” the whipper-snapper announced directing the stolen sword at Jack, ignoring Elizabeth, which Jack knew from experience to be a mistake. “I intend to free my father. I hope you're here to see it.”

Ah. Bootstrap. William junior must have met his barnacled father on the  _Dutchman_ . Jack had some sympathy for Bill’s fate, but saving him was not his quest.

It crossed Jack’s mind, however, that Will hell-bent on killing Jones and freeing the crew of the  _Flying Dutchman_ might prove an asset in case Jones would somehow manage to force Jack into joining said crew, after all. Nevertheless, he would much rather not risk going through the process of getting killed first.

“I have no bone to pick with your old man, but seeing as he’s already dead, and I’m not, I’ll stick to saving meself,” Jack said.

“Can’t we just make sure Jones calls off the Kraken and _then_ stab the heart?” Elizabeth interjected sensibly.

Will sent her a fleeting, surprised glance.

_Very good, Lizzie._

“I like this plan,” Jack backed her up quickly. “Brilliant!” Then he turned to Will. “Ye can have the heart as soon as ‘m safe, I have no desire to keep the slimy piece of flesh, and I’ll be rooting for ye to get the Bootstrap from under the Jones’s boot. Now, hand me the key.”

Will only smiled sardonically, barely hiding his irritation with Jack.

“He can’t be trusted,” he said, talking to Elizabeth, but looking at Jack. “I can’t risk it. Sorry, Jack. You’re on your own.”

“I don’t see how Jones slaughtering the Pearls is going to help anything.” Elizabeth argued. “Give it to me, Will. You can trust _me_.”

Norrington let out a peal of laughter that caused everyone glance at him incredulously. None of the present company had ever heard him laugh out loud.

“That should be entertaining,” he said amused, looking from Elizabeth to Jack.

Elizabeth bristled. Before they could react, though, Norrington stopped laughing abruptly and joined in:

“Unfortunately, I can't let you stab the heart either,” he said unexpectedly, baring his own sword and pointing it at Will. “So sorry.”

“Excellent! I knew you'd warm up to me eventually,” Jack exclaimed.

Norrington just shot him a look.

“Lord Beckett desires the content of that chest” he explained. „I deliver it, I get my life back.”

“Ah. The dark side of ambition,” Jack said, unfazed.

“Oh, I prefer to see it as the promise of redemption.”

They crossed the blades in a strange tripartite rhythm and again, it felt almost good to Jack, for the sole reason that it let him blow off some steam. At least he was doing something.

“Stop it!” Elizabeth yelled. “Stop this madness right now!”

He knew she would not take well to being ignored, but he still did not predict her next move: she ducked quickly under the moving blades and stood in the middle of the triangle the three of them had created, causing them come to a screeching halt, both Norrington and Turner calling her name and Jack almost dropping his sword.

“Lizzie, move aside,” Jack grunted tensely.

“I will not stand by and watch you kill each other!” she spat angrily, facing away from him.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have toyed with all three of us, then, Miss Swann,” Norrington sneered. “Or should I use another name?”

Jack realised that he had underestimated just how offended the ex-Commodore felt by his and Elizabeth’s recent actions. It had been bad enough that she had dumped the man for a mere smith apprentice, but yet another switch to a pirate was a double insult.

“Why are you wearing kohl?” Will asked suddenly.

Apparently, the kohl she had used the day before had not worn off, which Jack had not paid much mind to until that moment.

Reluctantly, Jack had to admit this might  _not_ have been the most opportune time for Will to find out.

“Don’t look at me,” Jack said, answering Will’s accusatory glare. “She stole it.”

“Would someone tell me what’s going on here?” Will asked.

Jack made a split second decision and – before anyone could react – grabbed Elizabeth from behind and pulled her flush against his body, his ruse complete with his sword at her neck, in a move that was a reminiscence of their first meeting. He would never tell her that, but he had enjoyed the opportunity to grab her probably a little too much even back then. Not that he had really intended to cause her harm – not back then, and certainly not at the moment – but the damsel in distress bluff tended to be too damn effective to pass on.

“Nobody moves,” he growled.

The two other men had adapted amusingly matching looks of confusion on their faces, but they lowered their weapons.

Of course, the person who did  _not_ listen to him was Elizabeth herself. He had his left arm wrapped around her, but she was struggling against him. He had to make sure that the blade did not  _actually_ rest on her neck, but rather a few inches away, so she would not end up injuring herself.

“What the bloody hell, Jack?!” she spluttered. “Let go of me!”

“Shhhh...” he pressed his cheek against hers, not leaving even a breathing space between them.

“Unhand her!” _that_ was definitely William.

“Jack Sparrow! Let me go this second, you blackguard!”

“Easy, love. _No-one_ wants ye to get hurt. Remember what I told ye last night?”

He meant the part where he had assured her she had been safe with him, but she probably remembered  _many things_ he had told her – like the part where he had confessed the effect seeing her angry had on him – because her cheek warmed against his skin. He would be lying if he said that he felt contrite about that.

“Then take the sword away, bastard!”

Despite the circumstances, there was something comforting about having her so close again, the length of his body pressed against her back. His newfound possessive streak rejoiced in holding her against him and away from these bumblers who were clearly still drooling over her – especially William, who annoyingly so thought he had rights to do that. It was a shame that they could not just go away and leave him in peace.

“Hold still,” Jack murmured into Elizabeth’s ear. “Ye might cut yerself if ye trash around.”

“You wouldn’t!” she grunted.

“Much to my own surprise, I’m inclined to agree,” Norrington said, voicing an untimely vote of confidence in Jack. “I have no lost feelings for you, Sparrow, but I find myself doubtful whether you are deranged enough to follow through on this particular threat.”

Jack gritted his teeth.

“Well, then, maybe ye should just go on and spar with William here, so I can save meself trouble of dealing with both of ye and just take care of the winner once this lovely duel is resolved.”

“What are you trying to achieve, Jack?” Will cut in.

“Isn’t that obvious?” Jack shot back. “I’m getting yer attention. Ye might not care for my life, but I was under the impression that ye were rather fond of the lady here. Now, what is more important to ye: keep the key, so ye can continue on yer risky mission to save yer cursed, absent, pirate father, or make sure this sweet lamb keeps all her golden hair on her head and stays away from me filthy paws?”

Just to further illustrate his point, he splayed said paw on Elizabeth’s midriff, feeling her stiffening with indignation.

“I’ll show you sweet, _captain_ ,” she growled. It was somewhat amusing that that was the part she clearly took the biggest offence to.

Will’s face reddened in anger.

_That’s it, mate. Right were I want ye._

Jack smirked, purposely making himself look as lecher-y as he could, which was not hard at all. He barely reined in a sudden and rather ridiculous urge to bite on Elizabeth’s earlobe – it might have been too much.

William went mum for a little too long, making it impossible not to detect his hesitation – it seemed long enough not only for Jack, but also for Elizabeth to take notice, as she stopped struggling and zeroed her gaze on Will suspiciously.

“I don’t believe your bluff, either,” he finally said, in Jack’s opinion rather lamely. “Stop hiding behind Elizabeth. This issue is between us – so let’s resolve it between us.”

Jack grinned broadly.

_Too little, too late_ , he thought gleefully.

“See, love?” he mused to Elizabeth. “He doesn’t mind.”

“Jack,” she said through clenched teeth. “I’m not a bloody bargaining chip.”

She was spitting mad, which was troublesome, not just because it did not bode well for him, but also because he could not help but find the look absolutely mesmerising on her.

“But ye’d made an excellent prize.”

“ _Jack_.”

“Gentlemen! I’m touched with yer faith in me,” Jack said looking up at the Former-Fiancés-Club. “However...”

“Enough!” Elizabeth finally lost her temper.

“Oi! Careful!” he exclaimed, narrowly avoiding cutting her fingers when she simply used her unarmed hand to push the blade away, as if she was swatting a mosquito. The fact that she did not seem at all considering the possibility that he might not put it away quickly enough would have been amusing if it did not give him a scare for a second.

_Oh, well._ _She wouldn’t risk pulling the same move twice, would she?_

And with that thought, he turned with a grace of a ballet master and in one long, smooth move leaned over to kiss her on a cheek…

“Another time, then,” he said with a wink.

…and then spun simultaneously giving her a twirl that pushed her away from him, before lunging forward, cutlass first, toward Will and the blasted key.

“JACK!!!” he cringed when he heard her cry, this time her fury directed fully at _him_ specifically, but didn’t stop.

He would have to deal with that later. His feet were already carrying him in a familiar rhythm of the swordfight and part of him was glad that they were carrying him  _away_ from her. He did not particularly fancy a duel (or rather, a truel), but he really did not have any time to lose. The black spot was eating away at his flesh with growing intensity and he had a feeling he knew what that meant – Davy Jones was close.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for another delay, guys. The biggest problem I had with this chapter was that I inicially thought I'd cut it in half and switch the POV at some point, but in the end, I just couldn't find the right place to do that, so I decided to just go with the flow. Which means that in a way, it's a double chapter. Now I'm missing one POV change, but I'll see how to deal with that next. I might resort to switching it in the middle of the chapter.

"Men are pigs," Elizabeth announced to no-one in particular.

She was really annoyed with all three of her suitors at the moment. First, there was of course Jack, who had behaved in a truly inexcusable manner – manhandling her, keeping at the sword-point and using as a pawn in a game of chess with Will. Oh, she had seen through his trick easily enough, but that did very little to appease her. To add to that, Jack's quicksilver changes of attitude made it hard to follow his train of thought, blurring even further as to where his true feelings and loyalties lay. In hindsight, perhaps she should have been more careful around him when he had been waving his cutlass in front of her, but it appeared that crossing lines with Jack had consequences – her reactions to him became very impulsive and it was hard to convince her body that Jack could pose any real threat to her. His not so subtle hints about the enjoyment he took in the situation were no help, either. She could not decide if he was doing that to taunt Will, or if it was just Jack being Jack.

_...and I can't believe he called me a lamb!_

Then, there was Will, who did not listen to  _a word_ of what she said, ignoring all her ideas and reasoning, and really did seem slightly too invested in his new mission. As noble as it might be, Elizabeth had to admit to herself, that it had occurred to her to question whether he still remembered what his original quest had been, when he had taken his sweet time to answer Jack's ultimatum. She had to ask: just where did  _she_ fit in that new plan of his?

Oh. Yes, she knew. She was supposed to  _guard the chest._

Lastly, there was James, who had been just annoyingly useless in the whole affair and generally being a nuisance. He spoke when his insight was least appreciated, stirring all kind of trouble.

And now, of course, they were all preoccupied with themselves, forgetting all about her, with every second getting away from her – the person whose fate they supposedly were so invested in.

She snorted inelegantly, but then narrowed her eyes.

Sure, why not. She would do much more than guarding the chest – she would  _take_ the chest back to the  _Pearl_  and wait in peace until these bloody morons would realise just where they could stick their precious key if they did not have  _the chest_ to use it.

There. She outsmarted them. Now, she just needed to do the same with Davy Jones. The thought cooled her down a little. She was not sure what she was facing, but it was definitely not something to look forward to.

She turned back toward the chest just in time to see Pintel and Ragetti making their way toward it. They looked like they had been caught with their hands in a cookie jar when they noticed her.

"I trust you've been meaning to guard the chest, gentlemen?" she said arching her eyebrow.

They grinned sheepishly and nodded. She was not fooled by that, but she pretended to be mollified. There was, however, a calculating look in Pintel's eyes she did not like.

"Good," she said firmly. "I'm sure the Captain will be glad when he finds out."

"We should probably move it off the beach to guard it even better," Pintel suggested using two of his fingers to make a walking gesture.

Ragetti grinned laughing soundlessly, but then his face fell when he saw his comrade's hand moving to rest on the sword handle. Ragetti raised his finger in a timid protest.

"I'm not sure if the Captain would like that," he pointed out.

Elizabeth had noticed that he seemed to be the gentler one in the duo.

"No, he would certainly not," she said, seething.

The  _nerve_. You turn your back for five minutes and people are already conspiring against you. They had been cheering and toasting her good fortune just a day before. Bloody pirates.

Pintel's shoulders sagged in surrender. Elizabeth felt odd using Jack's name to her advantage, but it worked well enough, and she supposed that was what mattered in the company she kept. Her victory, however, was only momentary, because just about two seconds later she had to scramble to gather her wits again. It was the sudden change of expression on the pirates' face that had alerted her first, before she noticed that anything was amiss.

"What is it?" she asked, before turning around to follow their line of sight.

Her breath caught, her fight of flight instincts kicking in. There was another ship sitting of the waves, and even though she had never seen it before, her gut feelings warned her immediately that she was looking at the  _Dutchman_. She quickly measured the distance between the new ship and the  _Pearl._ It was fairly big, but it still did not seem far away enough. For a moment she thought that it did not matter – that it had to be enough, that she  _had_ to get into the longboat, even if it meant leaving her darling idiots on the island and try to transport the chest to  _the Black Pearl_ , otherwise they were doomed… but then she saw something else. There was a movement in the sea, as if there was a boiling path in the water leading toward the shore and her mind made a sluggish conclusion at the last possible moment before it was too late: something was coming.

"I was wrong," she said, somehow managing to keep her cool despite the cold shiver running down her spine. "It's actually a great idea to move deeper into the land."

She turned quickly, only to notice that she was talking to the no-one. The pirates did not bother to wait for her reaction – they were already disappearing in the nearby woods, the chest abandoned. She reflexively reached for her sword, but grasped at empty air.

_Damn it, Will!_ , she thought remembering why there would be no weapon for her to find. Without wasting another second, she grabbed the chest and run toward the trees. She could already hear the changed cadence of the waves spelling fast-approaching danger, like a hot breath on her back.

She continued her mad dash between the trees, her heart beating wildly in her ribcage. She tried to follow the two pirates, but she found that she was not fast enough to catch up with them – the chest was small, but its weight was still slowing her down. She realised that it was making her the biggest target in the group, but she also knew that she could not, under any circumstances, let go of it, because that would be the end of them. She did not even know where she was heading. Her only hope was that she would find Will and make him open the chest so they could use the heart.

Where were her supposed defenders now? They left her alone and swordless and for that, she wanted to curse them to high heaven. She would do that, too, if it had not been such a waste of breath at the moment.

The noise behind her told her that they were no longer alone on the island. Suddenly, she heard what she thought was someone calling out pointing a direction. She had been spotted. Then, she made a mistake of looking over her shoulder. Her eyes widened and she took a second too long to stare at first of the creature following her lead and tripped on the uneven ground. She fell, her hands instinctively reaching out to cushion the impact and to protect her face, letting go of the chest. It tumbled away from her, a few steps out of her grasp. She made a move to get up, but then the rustle alerted her to someone's presence, so she simply rolled over quickly. She came face to face with a sea-man leaning heavily over her.

Then, she did something she was not particularly proud of, but what could have very well been vital to her survival: she screamed. It was a short scream, more a yelp than anything, but it was loud. The creature startled her: it was hovering over her, his distorted face much closer to her own than she had expected, and he was not exactly a sight for sore eyes. Her muscles tensed on their own accord and she hurried to back away, crawling backwards, but she was running out of options. She closed her fist on a rock, and then…

...something big and round hit the fishman's head, knocking it clean off his shoulders.

Elizabeth blinked. And then dodged. Unfortunately, even headless, the creature's body still remained animated and hostile, so she moved away from the line of the blow when the sea-man's sword dug into the ground next to her. At the very least, it was much easier to avoid getting hit since the creature's coordination seemed very much off, with the head shouting the orders from a few feet away and the body moving around blindly.

As she got to her feet, her glance stopped on the round object responsible for aiding her.

A coconut. It was a coconut. Coconuts did not fly horizontally, so clearly, it had been thrown intentionally. Who in the world would have thought of throwing a coconut at a monster? The answer came to her a split second before she saw him approaching in an even wobblier manner than usually. He gave her a brilliant smile and casually picked up the severed head before bouncing it in his hand, indifferent to its vocal protests.

"Oi! Crab stick!" he called to the seemingly confused torso, but it was probably the loud laments of the head that got the lower part's attention. Jack lifted the head to his eye level and looked at its face. "Do ye think he'll catch ye?" he asked conversationally before taking a swing and tossing it far away

Only after he saw the body following the head's voice, Jack looked up at Elizabeth and beamed at her.

"Lizzie!" he exclaimed coming closer, with an enthusiasm suggesting they had not seen each other for a long time. His eyes found the chest and then lit up and he glanced at her with a look that could only be described as adoring. His excellent mood was really annoying her, for some reason. "You brought the chest!"

He made a move as if he intended to kiss her, but she turned her head away. He frowned.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

She simply glared at him. Did he seriously need to ask?

"Are you kidding me?" she quipped gesturing with her arm for him to look around.

He pouted but got the hint.

"We should go," Elizabeth said looking over her shoulder nervously.

There were more creatures coming after them, she was certain.

"Two seconds," he said raising his finger.

First, he grabbed the handle of the sea-man's abandoned sword, still impaled in the ground, picked it up and handed it to Elizabeth. She took it gladly and then watched Jack kneel in front of the chest quickly. It did not even surprise her much when she saw the key in his hand. He fit it into the lock and then, finally, opened the lid.

What she saw next, made Elizabeth shudder with with a mix of disgust and morbid fascination: Jack reached inside the box and took out a very real, living heart. The organ was slick and it was pulsing in his palm, looking rather gross, to be honest.

Her concentration broke when she heard the muffled noise behind them in the jungle, way too close for comfort.

"Jack," she urged him with anxious whisper. "Hurry!"

She winced when she saw him simply stuffing the heart into the opening of his jacket, hiding it behind the fabric, and then closing the chest. She was ready to break into a run the second he straightened his back, but he unexpectedly pulled her backwards instead of forward and pushed her into the bushes. She opened her mouth to protest, but Jack covered her mouth with his hand and laid a finger on his lips, wordlessly telling her to be quiet. She was squeezed between a tree digging at her back and his body. He plastered himself as close to her as he could, as if he was trying to make them both flat and fill the smallest amount of space. She could feel his breath on her face.

She heard them before she saw them, and even then she really only saw flashes: Davy Jones's monstrous crew, strange hybrid sailors, who used to be men but were slowly becoming something else. They run past them without noticing, missing them by only a few feet. It helped that the crewmen already had their eyes on another target: the chest.

Elizabeth breathed heavily against Jack's hand, listening to the triumphant voices of the henchmen. She could feel a heartbeat against her chest… but also coldness seeping through her vest. Suddenly, she realised that it was not  _Jack's_  heart against her own, but Davy Jones's heart trapped between them and she shivered with revulsion at the thought. Maybe it wasn't as alive as they had thought. She squeezed her eyes shut.

Finally, the voices started to fade away, signalling the creatures' departure, along with the empty chest. Elizabeth took a deep breath a waited a few more long seconds for a good measure, before forcefully pushing Jack away. She could not get away quick enough.

"Let's go," she said, ignoring a hurt look Jack tossed her way.

"What's the matter with ye?" he asked, picking up his pace to keep up with her.

They were hurrying back toward the beach.

"In case you don't remember, you were threatening to slit my throat about fifteen minutes ago," she reminded him in a hiss, letting her irritation show.

His head whipped toward her.

"Ye can't believe I meant it!" he said incredulously. "Ye  _know_ I wouldn't do that."

"Oh, do I? Well, it wasn't amusing. And frankly, I don't know what to expect from you, Jack. You're completely unpredictable."

_You're saying that like it's a bad thing_ , her subconscious mind muttered in Jack's voice.

"When have ye ever seen me doing something like that?" he grumbled.

"You're missing the point!"

Jack's facial expression showed his disagreement, but he held back his reply. For a flickering second, the absurdity of them having a spat in the middle of a life or death situation registered with her, but she was not ready to let it go.

They kept running until the view on the sea opened in front of them and their boots hit the sand. It slowed them down, but only a little. Jack made his way through the shallow water toward the longboat and Elizabeth followed him. She observed him swiftly uncorking his mysterious jar and throwing some of the dirt out of it.

"I thought you needed this?" she inquired.

"Not for long, if everything goes according to the plan. I need  _this_  safe more," he said, unceremonious sticking the heart inside the jar and then covering it with dirt.

The sloshing sound warned Elizabeth and she looked over her shoulder just in time.

"Watch out!" she called and swung her comandeered sword on reflex.

"Bugger," Jack cursed straightening immediately and reaching for his own cutlass.

It looked like Davy Jones's crew was getting back to their ship and the two of them just happened to stand right in their path. The opponent Elizabeth had dodged first was easily dispatched, but there were more of them coming and they were backing her away from Jack and the longboat. She saw out of the corner of her eye that Jack was managing just fine, but he seemed to be far more away than she remembered. Jack was quite possibly better at dodging blows than parring them, so he relied heavily on the legwork. He never stayed long in one spot during a duel.

For a second, all the fighting faltered slightly and Elizabeth almost failed to block when an enormous distraction in a form of a giant mill wheel rolled right onto the blue Caribbean waters. The fact that her two ex-fiancés were taking a ride  _inside_ of the wheel was just a cherry on top. She decided that it was too weird for her to take her precious time and try to understand what was going on, especially since it seemed there was nothing she could do about it at the moment, but she had absolutely no doubt that Jack had been somehow involved in creating the situation. Instead on focusing on solving the mystery, she quickly turned her attention back to the fight, which, as she soon found out, was the right choice. An influx of creatures coming back from the land had her busy, leaving no room in her mind to consider the events that could have led to the appearance of the wheel, now fallen to the side and immobile. She furiously fought against her opponents and she was satisfied to see that she was definitely holding her own, but there were so many of them, trying to push through her resistance, that at some point she started tiring.

"Let them through!" she heard Jack calling out to her, and at first, she did not understand what he meant. "Step aside, Lizzie! Just let them pass!"

She glanced around and realised that what she had noticed at the beginning of the fight still held true: they were standing in the creatures' way to their ship. Then it struck her: the crew had not been chasing  _them_. Just the chest. Their orders were to bring it back to Davy Jones, and while they were ready to dispatch anyone who crossed their path, it was not their priority to go  _out_  of their way to kill the pirates. It took her a few more minutes to disentangle herself from them stream of the fishmen, but eventually, she managed to do just that and watched them run deeper into the sea, carrying the empty chest with them. It helped a little that Pintel and Ragetti chose that exact moment to show up again, unintentionally creating a diversion.

_Like a bad penny…_  - she thought, but without any real bite.

"What now?" she asked Jack, a little out of breath, when they met again. "I thought we didn't want them back on the  _Dutchman_?"

"Aye. But there is only a few of us here and there was a whole lot bunch of them. Right now, it's more important that we make it to  _our_  ship, than that they don't make it to their, savvy? Come on."

She looked around, noticing Will closing in on the longboat. He had a wobbliness to his movement that she usually associated only with Jack. Her stomach constricted with guilt at the sight. For a moment there, she had pushed aside the thought of all the things she needed to talk about with Will, but then it came back with a vengeance.  _That_  problem remained unresolved. Worst of all, she still was not sure what she wished the outcome to be. The apparent ease with which she could team up with Jack at moment's notice after taking grave offence at his actions suddenly felt like another betrayal.

"Elizabeth! Are you all right?" Will greeted her.

_No thanks to you_ , she thought ungratefully and immediately chastised herself.

"Where is James?" she asked instead of answering.

She made her way to the longboat, scanning her surroundings, but she did not see any sign of the former Commodore.

"I think he ran back to the woods at some point," Will said, frowning.

"We have to wait for him," was her instant reply.

"No time," Jack shot her down brusquely, walking toward them and taking away Will's attention.

"What?!" Elizabeth hissed.

But then she remembered. The  _Code._

"You can't be serious! It's an  _island_."

"Ye heard me. We have to go,  _now,_ " Jack said fumbling with an oar.

"What did you do with the key, huh?" Will suddenly cut in, advancing toward Jack. "You've wasted it, didn't you? You..."

...but before they could all hear his name of choice for Jack, the man in question lifted the oar and smacked him in the head, knocking him unconscious.

"Forgive me, William," Jack muttered, though he did not sound one bit apologetic, "but I've had enough of pointless duelling for one day."

Elizabeth inhaled sharply and then forced herself to bite her tongue, focusing on catching Will before his head went under the water. She just silently stared Jack down, daring him not to help her. Jack's hands twitched as he watched her, and for a second there, she saw hesitation on his face, but finally, he pressed his lips together and joined the task of depositing Will in the longboat.

"What are ye waiting for?" Jack barked to the two pirates standing uncertainly in the distance. "Chop, chop. Grab the oars."

The scallywags scrambled toward the longboat like scolded dogs running at the first sign of for forgiveness to their master, still with their ears down, but eager to please. Elizabeth jumped on board as well and sat down. She crossed her arms and stubbornly looked overboard.

So… they were going to take along  _these two_ , but leave James behind.

"He's probably safer here than we'll going to be," Jack said, as if reading her thoughts. He sounded bleak, the glimpse of a good mood she had seen before completely extinguished. And then, even though they were already on the move, he added quietly, "Ye could go find him if ye wanted."

"Excuse me?"

"Ye could wait here."

"Wait?"

"We'd come back for ye when it would be over."

Elizabeth turned her head to stare at Jack. He wasn't looking at her, instead, his gaze was downcast. She noticed that he was clutching his jar of dirt again.

_Come back?_

She chuckled bitterly.

"As if," she spat. "I've been paying attention. Pirates don't  _come back_  for their comrades. You'd simply sail away after the dust settles and never look back. I'm not stupid, Jack. I won't fall for this."

He had no problem leaving behind James and knocking out Will when it suited him. While she did not believe him to be malicious at heart, he sure was very used to taking out obstacles without hesitation, whatever and whoever they were, which begged a question: could he ever be trusted?

"I said I'D COME BACK for you!" he suddenly raised his voice, startling her with the volume.

For a shocked second, their eyes met, but then they both looked away, just as quickly.

"Do you  _want_ me to stay?" she simply asked.

Truth was, it was not just the fear of being left behind that stopped her. She never really wanted to stay on the shore.

"Ye're missing the point," he parroted her mercilessly.

They did not exchange another word for the rest of the quick journey to the  _Pearl_. They were back to where they had been in the morning, both physically and figuratively, with the exception of replacing James for Will as their companion in the longboat.

She kept her eyes downcast, but she saw Jack's outstretched arm when he offered it to her silently, to help her up. She did not look up, but she could feel the cooler air when he stood up and cast a shadow on her.

"What about Will?" she asked.

"What about him?" Jack grunted unfriendly.

"He's still unconscious. I can't just leave him here like this."

Jack's hand disappeared from her line of sight.

"Then don't," he muttered.

She sighed.

_You should have just taken his hand and worry about Will later._

She closed her eyes for a second, but she was once again bathed in hot Caribbean sunlight. Jack was gone.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone's insecure and it's driving them nuts. But hey, at least they finally got off the island in this chapter.
> 
> BTW... I rewatched that part of the movie and I realised that I have absolutely no idea how exactly Jack managed to come back to the Pearl while she was under the Kraken's attack without losing/destroying the longboat. Did he just row back, tie the boat and jump on board among all these flying tentacles and such? Any ideas?


End file.
